All that is true.

To turn a half formed thought

into a fully fledged idea

takes a mind which understands that

Things are what they were

and will be what they are.

The greatest gift of all is an uparralleled presence

Of mind.

Of matter.

A whisper from afar so faint one might mistake it

For the wind which passes over head.

For the water which passes underfoot.

Known elements from which we sculpt the world around us;

we sculpt the space which holds us.

Caught upon the precipice of the unknown and yet I am not scared.

A part of my self has been lying dormant for so long

but now it stirs… no more a whisper but a roar!

In order to be vulnerable one must be honest

In order to be honest, one must be vulnerable.

In order to show up for anyone else we must first show up for ourselves.

There are small moments of talk

and moments of small talk.

Which do you seek? Which seek you?

You happen to the world at the same rate it happens to you.

You cannot dictate how it happens but you can curate the way in which you happen back.

To whomp or be whomped?

Now I see where true north lies, I question how I ever came to forget

The inextricable links of my intuitive web.

Weaving together all that is true

by discarding that which isn’t.

We shed our fears

like a skin which no longer fits,

leaving behind that which no longer serves.

What once was now but a finger print…

Evidence of touch,

of being touched.

It is no coincidence that our tears taste of the ocean.

By being, we become.

To look

is to listen to answer

Just as to see

is to listen to hear.

:: Words by Sophie Angelica ::

:: Photograph by Shakara Johnson-Prior ::