If I dare to dream, If I dare to believe, If I dare to breathe, What wonder might I see? What destiny awaits for me? If I dare to breathe, If I dare to dream, If I dare to believe, Will I finally find my victory? Years spent in the trenches, Years wandering aimlessly, The arrows of doubt wielded too much power, Lies of shame inflicting endless pain. If I dare to dream, If I dare to breathe, If I dare to see myself—truly see— Will that release me from captivity? I challenge myself to believe in the reflection of His design— To simply love who He created me to be. Imperfectly perfect, Beautiful chaos, In all its splendor. Audacious. Humble. Courageous. Doubtless. Shameless. Kind. Loud. Authentic. Loving. Relentless. Selfless. Free to dance in joy and grace, Full of love and soaring with purpose, Forgiving in the moment—living. Daring to dream, Daring to breathe, Daring to stay true to who I am, Dying to self, so He can be more— So I can soar higher and higher, To heights beyond my understanding— For I am royalty, born anew. Lower and lower my pride descends, Lower and lower I release it all— Casting it at His feet, Bowing in humility— Complete in His presence. Humbly, I am nothing without my King. Humbly, my heart sings. Humbly, I lay down all crowns— Clothed in His righteousness, I stand. Joyfully, I rest my head upon His chest, He whispers new words— Songs yet to be sung in the days to come. We breathe in unison, His breath filling my lungs with life. I choose to breathe. I choose to dream. I choose to believe. Nothing more. Nothing less. I will accept only the best— No longer allowing shadows or false promises to steal my peace. I refuse to yield to the hellish pressure of performance. I refuse to live for those who cannot see. I refuse to seek approval from the blind. I refuse to chase after the impatient and unkind— Those who do not understand that a person's heart takes time to heal and unfold. From this day forward, I vow to stay true to my eternal Lover—The Glory King. I promise to be patient with myself, as I learn to simply be. To speak kind words to myself, And as my destiny unfolds, To move slowly, allowing His living truth to take root within. There is beauty in transformation. Every step I take, every breath I draw, Is a testament to the grace that surrounds me. I am learning to embrace the process, To cherish the moments of stillness, Where I can hear His gentle whispers. As I navigate through life's challenges, I discover the strength that lies within. It is a quiet strength, A resilience born from faith and love. I am reminded that healing is not linear; It ebbs and flows like the tide. With each passing day, I find freedom in my faith. It is a freedom that liberates my spirit, Allowing me to rise above the noise. I am learning to trust the journey, To surrender my fears and doubts. In the stillness, I find clarity. In the chaos, I find peace. I have learned to dance in the rain, To celebrate the storms that shape me. For every trial is a stepping stone, A masterpiece, intricately designed, A reflection of His love and grace. As I cultivate this awareness, I am filled with a sense of purpose. I am learning to shine my light, To share my story with others. For in our stories, we find connection, A reminder that we are not alone. Together, we can lift each other up, Encouraging one another on this journey. As I look to the future, I am filled with hope and anticipation. I know that the path ahead may not always be easy, But I am ready to embrace the adventure. I will walk with courage, Guided by the light of His love. I will celebrate the small victories, And honor the lessons learned along the way. In this journey, I am discovering the beauty of being. I am learning to trust His process, To embrace the unfolding of my story. For I am a beloved child of the King, This journey is just beginning. Let us dare to dream, Dare to breathe, And dare to believe in the beauty of our own stories. Together, we can find freedom, And inspire one another to soar.

It is time to speak of something difficult—something many still call taboo. In these days when nearly everything is politicized, abortion remains one of those conversations people instinctively silence. Shame, guilt, fear, or anger rise within and cause them to turn away. But I will no longer remain silent. Shame kills. It silences and destroys. Keeping the truth hidden only strengthens darkness’s deathly grip on the soul. I speak plainly and bluntly because I have walked this valley myself. I have laid my pain, my choices, and my brokenness before the Father. I have wrestled with my decisions and I have met Him in the secret place, and now I walk with greater clarity, understanding, and authority. In this hour, as abortion laws expand even to the point of birth, I feel compelled to speak. No woman should make this decision without understanding the living hell she is stepping into. If you have had an abortion or participated in one in any way, hear me now: shake off that shame and guilt. I was in my twenties when I had two abortions. I was drowning in pain and darkness, barely able to breathe. I was dating and having sex when I had no business doing so, without understanding the sacred weight of its consequences. The first came right after I started my first business. I was pregnant by a man who was emotionally lazy and irresponsible, with no intention of being a father or helping financially. I was already caring for my three-year-old son and suffering terribly from hyper-emesis. I could barely get out of bed to care for myself or him. My new business was slipping away. Lost and unable to trust God or anyone else, I made the appointment. Two days later, I was no longer pregnant. Though I knew what I had done was wrong, I cloaked it in the world’s excuses—“my body, my choice.” Those words offered no comfort afterward. Neither did the voices cheering me on. I already believed God hated me, so I thought this act could only deepen His hatred. The moment that still pierces me is telling my excited little boy that the baby had gone to Heaven—and hearing his sweet heart break as he cried. The shame I carried afterward stayed with me. In time, I numbed it with drugs. Two years later, I found myself in an even darker pit. I had fallen down a flight of stairs and suffered a major injury. My once-strong body could no longer perform as it always had. My business was collapsing. Depression consumed me, and pain pills blurred my days. Bitter and angry, I sought solace in the arms of a man instead of the arms of The Father. I heard The Father’s voice warning me not to see this man, but pride and rebellion ruled me. I even wished for pregnancy, believing it would somehow heal the brokenness and make us fall in love. How deeply deceived I was. He came from a patriarchal culture where the man ruled and decided all things. Four months in, I became pregnant. At six weeks, I suffered another devastating injury—my eye socket was fractured, and I nearly lost my eye. The pregnancy worsened hyper-emesis. The relationship turned dark. He grew verbally abusive and threatened to take the baby after birth so his mother could raise our child in a Buddhist temple. He also turned against my son. At five and a half months pregnant, desperate and lost, I went through with it again. Alaska would not permit abortions past three months, so the state paid for me to fly to Seattle. No other options were offered at the clinic. There, they performed a sonogram. The baby’s head was significantly larger than it should have been. I could not bear to look. Then came the needle—nine or ten inches long. I began to weep. As they guided it into my womb, my baby moved—frantically trying to escape, burrowing into the left side. My child was aware. My child was frightened and in distress. The lie that unborn babies feel nothing is a deception only the evil or deeply deceived can speak. Then my baby stopped moving. It felt like a stone—heavy and still—inside my once-safe womb.They carried me into the operating room. When I woke, I was weeping and crying out, “Where is my baby? Give me back my baby! Oh dear God, what have I done? Please… give me back my baby!” The despair and emptiness that followed cannot be expressed in words, truly. For 12 years, that pain of my baby burrowing and trying to move away stayed with me like a long lost love. Everyday. Reminding me. Crying out to me. The pain. The anguish. My mind replaying the murder of my child, over and over. Weeping. Sorrowful. If only I could go back. If only I had five seconds to make a different decision. For years afterward, it felt as if I was dying every day. Even now, not a single day passes without thoughts of my babies—my beautiful, precious children I never got to meet. I never held them. I never smelled the sweet, heavenly scent of their breath. I never heard their first cries in the night or felt them nurse at my breast. I never looked into their eyes with wonder. I never had the chance to kiss their boo-boos, or hold them when they were scared, or teaching them how to be still and listen. I never watched them run and laugh, scramble eggs in the kitchen, or cuddle close while we dreamed upon the clouds and stars. I missed every sacred moment meant for us. And in missing them, part of my own becoming was lost. These two choices are the only ones I would undo if I could. Above every hardship, every mistake, they cut the deepest. Even today, my heart remains tender toward those moments. Tears still come unbidden as I imagine who my children might be now. A sigh escapes, tears fall onto my lap. I see the depravity of what I did. I now understand that in aborting my children, I spiritually signed a blood covenant with a demon god that feeds on the blood of the innocent. This truth is heavy, but it must be spoken. It is a matter of life and death. To any woman reading this who is considering abortion: I have walked this path before you. I implore you—please do not go through with it. Stop. Breathe. Pause long enough to see there are other options. There are agencies and families who long for your child more than words can say. You can even reach out to me. Just please, choose life. Give this precious soul inside you the chance to breathe, to laugh, and to soar into the destiny for which they were created. You are loved beyond what you can fathom. Though the Father desired life for that child, when you turn to Him in true repentance, you are forgiven. The blood of Jesus covers it completely. Your sin is cast into the Sea of Forgetfulness, and The Father remembers it no more. The shame may threaten to strangle you at first, but do not remain there. Come before Him as His forgiveness rushes toward you with fervor and unwavering love. Call upon the Father of Lights—Yahweh, Call upon Jesus... The One who formed you and your baby before the earth was ever a thought, Psalm 139. He is mercy. He is grace. He is redemption. Do not listen to the condemning voices or the cheers for death. The Father is not waiting to condemn you—He longs to wrap you in His love. He has a plan and purpose for you and your baby. Please… choose life, just as life was chosen for you.

Do you ever feel like you’re not allowed to fly? Do you ever feel dead—dried up inside? Do you ever feel like you must live according to lies? Do you ever feel trapped inside your own mind? Pressure closes in from every side. Fear whispers, spitting out its lies. For a split second, I turn and hide. For a moment, I believe the lie. For a moment, I fall for the trick. For a moment, I forget I hold the Sword of the Spirit—not a simple stick. I kneel, head bowed, tears falling freely. I repeat the words I’ve known all my life. His peace settles over me— steady, sure. Each bold word is my grip tightening on Jesus, my refusal to let go. I remember: I am unbroken. Unstuck. Realigned. Reassigned. No longer blind. I feel His breath on me. His power surges through my veins. His shadow wraps around me. His love overtakes me. Freedom echoes in the depths. The song of heaven fills my head. The words of heaven form on my lips— Truth flowing like a river. The ground begins to quake. My heart knows what’s at stake. A champion, resolute, I lift my head. The battle cry builds inside. The enemy cowers— his lies now powerless. He turns to flee, but my sword strikes and cuts short his stride. Clothed in victory, I hear heaven’s celebration. Humbled, I see the King approaching. I fall to my knees— crowns cast down. An atmosphere of love surrounds me, profound, all-encompassing. I am in awe of the sound— Eternal. Mystical. Mysterious. Supernatural. It flows around me, it claims my ground. And forever, in His love, I am bound.

Behind me lies the wilderness— its shadowed valleys and jagged lessons now fading. Behind me, the cocoon lies long shed, the tattered remains buried in unmarked graves. The years were often dark, frightening, and dire— yet every tear, every shattering, You used as fuel in Your refining fire. For You, the One who is my portion. A table, fit for the King, stands set apart and prepared for me. Abundant portions overflow— rich oils drip, warm bread steams, and a holy hush blankets the atmosphere. For You, the One who is my portion. Crowns are cast down with a clatter. Humbly, I bow low, forehead to the ground. I worship at the feet of the One— the One who is my portion. As I feast, my weary body is renewed— strength surges through aching bones and tired flesh. As I drink, my faded dreams sharpen into view. Fresh visions pour like living water from Your mouth. For You are my portion. Flesh of Your flesh, bone of Your bone— never once did You leave me alone. Jewels of mercy and glory You have pressed into my soul, sparkling against old scars, For You are my portion. You are my new wine, Together we break bread, Soaring as one, as eagles we climb on wings of wind— for You are my portion. Insatiable hunger—for Your eyes alone. Insatiable thirst—for Your love that satisfies the deepest marrow. Insatiable desire—to behold Your beauty face to face. You are all I need. For You are my portion. Authors Note: Behind this poem my words stretch into a vast wilderness — not merely a place, but a living testament of my soul’s long pilgrimage. It is a terrain of shadowed valleys and refining fires, where darkness pressed close and fear whispered its dire prophecies. Yet even there, in the crucible of affliction, the divine Refiner was present. Every tear became holy fuel. Every shattering moment was surrendered to flames that did not destroy, but purified. The cocoon of old identity lies shed and discarded, its fragile remnants buried in unmarked graves. What once confined now rests in sacred silence, making way for emergence. This poem unfolds as a breathtaking movement from death to life, from fracture to wholeness. A journey through the wilderness and into the presence of the King. Here, a table is set apart, prepared with divine intentionality. Abundant portions overflow in lavish generosity. Rich oil anoints. New wine flows, deep and alive. A holy hush blankets the atmosphere, thick with glory, inviting the weary traveler to lay down every burden and feast. In this sacred space, the posture of the heart shifts. Crowns once held tightly are cast down with a humble clatter. The soul bows low — forehead to the ground — in reverent worship at the feet of the One who never left. Flesh of His flesh, bone of His bone. Jewels of mercy and glory are pressed tenderly into the once-broken places of the soul, catching heavenly light even against old scars. The body, long weary, is renewed with every moment spent in the presence of The Living King, Jesus. Dreams that had faded sharpen into vivid focus. Fresh visions pour like living water from the mouth of the Beloved. Soaring as one, like eagles riding unseen thermals, the soul climbs higher on wings of intimate communion. There is no separation. There is only the relentless, beautiful pursuit — an insatiable hunger for His eyes alone, an unquenchable thirst for love that reaches the deepest marrow, a holy desire to behold His beauty face to face. At its core, this poem holds an eternal truth: When all else falls away, He remains. When the years have been dark and dire, He proves faithful. When the soul longs for more, He is the More. It is a testimony of transformation. It is a love song between the redeemed and the Redeemer. It speaks of the One who is not merely Provider, but Portion — the all-sufficient inheritance, the very sustenance of the heart. In Him, the lame walk. The ashamed are unveiled. The hungry are filled. The wilderness fades behind, and before stretches an open horizon painted with Heaven’s mandate. You are my Portion. These simple, powerful words become both anchor and anthem — a declaration that echoes through every chamber of the human heart. In the feast, in the fire, in the flight — He is enough. He has always been enough. And in this knowing, the soul laughs with holy glee, forever undone by love.

My existence—dust in the wind, yet somehow more vital to creation than earths rotation. Every particle of me knit together by the Hands of Eternity. Every breath planned. Every path paved. I am alive— wonderfully and purposefully designed. I am sustained by love. My soul was bought. Yet my flesh is fraught… Why? For a moment, I lose focus. For a moment, I take my eyes off the sacrifice of love. For a moment, I forget I am stepping in unison with The King. Fear rushes toward me, shackles at the ready. Anxiety follows close behind with his deathly tether. Shame arrives with collar and muzzle. I fall to my knees. Unease coils around me. Darkness taunts from the shadows. Thoughts twist and snarl as I choose to listen. My heart sinks— the past rushes in. Thought after thought—WACK! Each one a dagger to the heart. So many years spent alone and cold. So many years being told: “You’re nothing. A waste of space. A bother and a nuisance.” Spit running down my face. Broken and bleeding, my heart shouts. My soul begs for healing. I cannot go any further on my own. I look around— no one to lean on, no one to talk to, no one to hear my heart’s cry. Darkness creeps closer to the kill. Then— a shriek, so piercing and shrill it splits the air. The enemy flees for cover. Every atom in the atmosphere goes still. Flashes of light erupt from every side. Chains snap, tethers break— head to heel, I am free. Shrieking and writhing, the enemy and his cohorts are swatted into oblivion like useless flies. I am laid bare. My soul is naked. I stand before the One who is Eternity. The Voice of Eternity speaks— and the very air trembles. Every lie that clung to me, melts like wax “My beloved,” He says, “I have called you by name. You are Mine. And Mine alone. No shadow will overtake you. No chain will bind you. No wound is beyond My healing. I have seen your nights of terror and counted every tear. I have held your breath in My hands and kept your heart beating when you wished it would stop. You are not nothing— you are My masterpiece. You are not forgotten— you are written into eternity. Stand, child of Mine Walk in the freedom I have already won. For I am with you—always.”

Since the very conception of my being, my life has never been my own. Cursed and unwanted in the womb. Used as a pawn in battles that were never mine. Desecrated, diminished. Passed around, passed over. Left behind, forgotten. Those dearest to me stolen by a thief in the night. So much darkness. So much pain. Each time I reached out, it only brought new lashes from the very hands that claimed to love me. I learned too quickly: reaching out was not safe. Forced to dance to another’s melody. Forced to love in twisted ways. Forced to smile, to pretend. Taught to hide behind masks. Shamed. Forsaken. Burdened with secrets that were never mine to carry. The exhaustion is bone-deep, a slow death creeping through my soul. I reach out again— but my words fall on deaf ears. So, alone I stand. Waiting. Hoping. Hoping someone will see me— and love me for me. Not for beauty. Not for what I can offer. Not for fleeting pleasure. But simply… to love me. So I stand. Alone. Waiting. Hoping. Desiring a love that will stretch to the ends of the earth. A love that is unconditional. A love that bears burdens. A love that is gentle, safe, and kind. A love that leaves no scars. A love that does not spit upon my face. A love that covers and protects. A love that does not betray or reject. A love that does not silence me, or demand I wear masks. Some call it a fairytale. And yet—still I wait. In the quiet, something brilliant breaks through, the reality of my existence. I am already part of the greatest love story ever told, and the fairytale I longed for, was mine all along.

My heart bleeds, day after day. The past still has its claws in me. Death grips my soul, and with every ounce of strength, I fight to break free. I try to keep my eyes forward— to breathe in today, to let go of yesterday’s pain. But like a demon from hell, it seizes me again, demanding every cell of my being, so used to controlling me. What I would give to rewrite my past. What I would give to end it all and begin again. No one understands. No one feels this agony. Men lined up quickly, hastily and greedily, seeking my Shangri-La— lust without love, desire without depth, touch without sincerity. No one has loved me past my flaws. No one has walked with me through the dark nights. No one has been strong enough to hear the anguish of my heart, to heal the pieces broken so long ago, to stand as my strong tower— my knight in shining armor— gentle with the most beautiful and broken parts of me, willing to protect them with every last ounce of energy. Years spent living in fear. Years running in circles, pushing wisdom aside, never realizing that pain and devastation had driven me into arrogance and pride. I am humbled by my pain— humbled that I made choices based on lies. Humbled that millions of breaths passed before I realized how much time I had wasted trying to rewrite the past instead of living for the future. Humbled that I held onto my pain like a long-lost lover. Humbled to be alone— yet grateful for the solitude and peace that now surround me. I am humbled, so very humbled… but I am also grateful. Grateful for this painful humility, for it has dulled the sharp edges of ego and pride. I am encouraged— tomorrow holds new opportunities to try again. I am hopeful— for tomorrow carries the mysteries of new territory, the beginnings of a new me. And now I know— it is safe to let go of the pain that turned to pride, so I can love, and be loved, completely.

SURRENDER Surrender feels so frightening— an unknown journey. Too many past horrors to risk laying down my authority. People see, they judge, without ever knowing my story. So I build walls, brick by brick, with endless energy. The faster I move, the less I think. Distraction becomes my shield against the stench fear left behind. Blind, I cannot see the bind I am in— the prison I built by believing the lies, spoken long ago to steal away my spirit, to silence my soul. Surrender feels so frightening—an unknown journey. Too many past horrors to risk laying down my authority. So I whisper, day after day: Surrender is not an option. Keep moving. Keep moving. Don’t stop. Don’t feel. Quickly wondering— is it all in vain? Keep moving. Keep moving. I must produce. Keep moving. Keep moving. But the nuts and bolts are coming loose. And deep inside, a single chant echoes: Keep moving or die… Keep moving or die… Keep moving or die… SURRENDERING But then— a moment of stillness. A time to stop and ponder what my life has truly been about. No longer a child— not for a long while. It was time to live by His style. Surrender is still frightening, unknown territory… yet it whispers of freedom, of my true authority. As I grow, I begin to flow in the liberty given to me long ago. Authority to speak life, to call miracles into existence. Authority to confront evil without resistance. Authority to crush the enemy’s head. Authority to sing hope into the walking dead— the dead of heart, the dead of spirit. I lift my voice, so they may hear it. And the more I surrender, the more I grow— making it easier now to ebb and flow. The lies fade into the distance, their power at last undone. And when I look into the mirror, I finally see— the woman I was created to be. SURRENDERED To live surrendered— such a holy feat. It is more than a seat at the table. It is bowing low, humbly, at Jesus’ feet. It is stillness without the crutch of pills. It is meekness, quiet strength while the heart seeks. It is laying pride aside, allowing His hands to unweave the lies. And now my heart stirs— beating a melody brand new, a song no one else has heard, crafted by the Hands of Love. A new day has dawned. Pride laid down, I rise into a new stride. I sit quietly, sweetly singing my song. I walk lightly, held tightly in His love, dwelling daily in His shadow. No longer a clanging gong.

Skating across the night sky, tendrils of love trail high. We descend slow, we rise again, Your love flowing steady through my heart and soul. With Your guidance I avoid the quick sand, with gratitude I dance, I leap, I clap my hands. Upon the Rock I land— angels gathering round, listening to the decrees You have spoken over my life. Plans to prosper, never to wound, to propel, never to restrain. Your favor pours without end, filling every hollow place within me. I stand before the King. Upon my hand He places a ring. My heart sings. His hand in mine, our hearts entwined, our minds aligned. The pact is eternal— never to be broken, never to leave me behind. Together we wade into rivers of holy ecstasy. Angels dance delightfully, their voices trumpet exuberant praise. They shine with the light of new wine, translucent with glory. A goblet is brought to me, filled with the King’s desires from the sea. I bow in reverence. He tilts my head until our eyes meet— and endless love is all I see. I fall into His arms. I know He will never let go. Lifted higher, my desire deepens: to know who I am, to know where I am going. Your winds of change rush through me. In awe of Your presence, I bow. We soar together, wingtip to wingtip, laughing, spinning somersaults through the heavens. We paint the sky in colors unknown to man. The stars themselves seem to tremble at Your majesty. Angels draw near, marveling at the depth of our love. Your heart beckons me closer. The atmosphere of Your love cascades all around. Even the earth releases a new sound— a sound so pure it revives the land, revives every cell of my being. It is my destiny to fly with You through eternity. A song rises— a melody of intimacy, a secret refrain composed in the chambers of Your love. Heaven tips its bowls, blessings pour forth for the fearful, the maligned. My King declares my royal place in His heavens above. And I— enfolded in Your embrace, realigned, revived, restored— sing the melody You placed within me from the very beginning.

I have seen so much horror, so much pain, hatred that corrodes, perversity that scars. Questions without answers. Doubts that circle like vultures, whispering, “What is life even for?” Shame consumed me, silence bound me, wounds reopened with every memory. Daggers thrown, daggers pulled out— scars left behind that made me weep, scream, and want to vanish. But the scars were never my disqualification. They became the map of my journey, the proof of my survival, the marks of beauty hidden in brokenness. So weary of pain, I collapsed. And in the quiet, a new sound rose— a melody so strong it pulled at my soul. Revelations of things unseen. A love I had never known before. It consumed me. It drew me near. The very atmosphere of Heaven wrapped me close. The vibrations of His love rocked me to my core. This was no fable, no fleeting story— it was truth deeper than any wound. With Him by my side, I found the courage to lift my head. With Him by my side, my tears dried— for His joy had already conquered my grief. He reminded me of who I am. He reminded me of destiny. He whispered that pain itself was only a passage— that every wound could be turned to gold in the fire of His redemption. Now I rise. I laugh at the lies of darkness. I wield the rod of joy like a weapon, driving despair back to hell. From this day forth— I choose to see the love He placed in me. I choose to see the grace He covered me with. From this day forth I know: all things are connected. You.Me .We. No more pain—only His glory woven into my scars.

Stinging pain in my mind, I reach for fragments lost to pride. I try to gather what slipped through my hands, but shame rises like a tide. Broken. Guilty. Dirt upon my face— a life that feels like disgrace. How can I let in love when brokenness stabs so deep? Breath is hard to find. Alone, I plead: “Please, dear God—why can’t I get it right? Why does it feel so hard just to be me?” Terrors come like thieves in the night, stealing peace, filling my marrow with fear. I cry out, “Whose voice is this? His? Hers? Mine?” Confusion dines at my table, leaving me starved of truth. And yet, even in despair, my heart whispers— “Please, dear God, pick me up. Hold me close. Fight back the darkness that stalks my nights. Anchor me in Your love, before pride devours me whole.” Broken wings. Crushed dreams. Shame behind me, terror around me— yet ahead, a horizon unfolds. Colors radiant, a feast prepared, a future I had not dared to dream My wings—once shattered—stir with life. Dreams once crushed breathe again. Drums resound, a rhythm of beginnings. To that beat, I rise and walk. Head lifted high, I see Him— my Beloved drawing near. Eyes ablaze with love, lips that kiss away the ashes off my brow. His fingers entwine with mine, a bond formed before time began. Strength encircles me. Roots of fortitude sink deep into my ground. The story of my brokenness is not my end. For in His hands, broken wings still fly, and crushed dreams live again.

Being alone may not be comfortable, but it is in solitude that we find the space, to discover who we are. It is in solitude that we see our strengths. It is in solitude that we slow down, breathe, and stop living someones dream. Sitting here, I realize - my whole life I have lived someone else's dream. So many years passed as I lived someone else's life. I was told what I should be like, what I should believe, what it means to be a woman. Who I should love. When I should cry. Who I should be - and that I must sacrifice my dreams. I was told sacrificing my dreams was proof of love. I was told to always put others first, no matter the cost to myself. Those ones... so very dark, those ones. They beat me. Scarred me. Used my body for their depravity. They left me broken and bleeding - every act a calculated cruelty. They laughed and forgot me once they were finished. I was no more than a plaything for their selfish ambition. Oh God, the dark nights. Fear consumed my every breath. Darkness closed in on every side, bringing instability and uncertainty It whispered the lie that I was not enough. But I see now - that lie stole my life from me. That lie kept me living someone else's life. Realizing it feels like the wind has been knocked from my lungs. I see it clearly: those dark nights of my childhood taught me to be drawn to darkness. They taught me to mistake cruelty for love. They taught me sadness. They taught me conformity. They taught me to seek out destruction and mediocrity. But now - In the quiet aftermath of decades past - I realize something important. I was meant for greatness beyond my wildest dreams and imaginations. I was meant to feel the wind on my face as I soar with the eagles. I was meant to hear the stars whisper ancient mysteries. I was meant to laugh and feel joy every day - to never be afraid. If I was taught to seek darkness, then I can unlearn it. The more I unlearn what was forced upon me, the more my true self is uncovered.

God’s existence is wrapped in layers of enigmas. For some, it carries stigmas. The creation of time— a mystery. For His Beloved, a beautiful history. A spoken word, or a big bang? I believe it all happened because His heart sang— melodically weaving our DNA. His heart yearned for companionship. Friends created in His perfect image. Ones to give ownership. Ones to co-create. Ones to fill with love, not hate. Ones to name each animal and star. Ones to trust, never wandering far. But in one moment, separation existed— breathed in by a lie from the darkness of hate. All was not lost. His grand plan already in place. A butterfly flaps its wings. God’s ultimate love pours upon the earth. All creation sings. Born into our realm, the Redeeming King. From the Heavens above to the depths of hell, His Spirit came— and humbled deaths grip, we must listen well. The One who stands above all. The One who will never fall. The One who will never drop the ball. Issued the day He came— the plan. The plan of hope. And upon this Rock, we stand.

Vastness surrounds me. Not silent, yet still— so quiet a pin could fall and never be heard. A tender breeze teases the leaves, and they dance, carefree and wild. I breathe in the lingering sweetness of my King, a fragrance from days long past that still clings to my soul. A gentle calm calls my name. My heart yearns—there is always more of Him to know. A holy fire burns within, consuming my pride. I stand unafraid, bare before His gaze. His breath becomes my voice, filling my lungs until they overflow with living praise. Time itself stands still. I feel every cell alive, eelectric with His presence. Creation stirs within me, never resting. Every molecule is held, sustained, and moved by His perfect will. I am a fiery arrow in His quiver, poised and trembling with purpose. He moves through me like many waters— rushing, deep, unstoppable living rivers. I am His chosen brush, painting Heaven’s mandate across the canvas of this earth. My colors splash bold and brilliant— preordained, prepared, purposed. He paints our love story with majestic ferocity. His love clears away deception’s choking mist. The veils of shame He tears apart with nail-scarred hands. Girded in truth, I stand firm. Faith, my shield. Grace, my field. Living free, my heart undone. I breathe in the atmosphere of His love— thick, sweet, and heavy with glory— and I know I will never be the same. Taking in all that lies before me, I am no longer lame. Moving forward, I laugh with holy glee. At last… I truly understand His love for me.

Before You formed my being, before the first light broke, we soared. In the secret chambers of eternity, You dreamt of me. In the depths of holy intimacy, You shaped my forever—our forever. On the breath of Your dawn, we soar. (breathe) I am Yours, and You are mine. Our hearts entwined, Our minds aligned, Our spirits one—unbroken by time. On the breath of Your dawn, we soar. (breathe) You strike the first chord of my beginning, A rhythm my heart still follows. You drive my spirit toward love, toward hope, Toward giving away the countless blessings You place in my hands each day. On the breath of Your dawn, we soar. (breathe) My heart stirs when You draw near. You take me deeper than dreams dare go. My King—Your presence is holy wine, Pressed and poured into my cup. On the breath of Your dawn, we soar. (breathe) Cheek to cheek, hand in hand, We look together upon the land You’ve promised. I gaze—and tears of joy fall freely. On the breath of Your dawn, we soar. (breathe) I remember the times I doubted, The days when fear ruled and I turned back. I remember when I ran, forgetting Your love was everlasting And would never let go. On the breath of Your dawn, we soar. (breathe) Now my mind is renewed, My heart is infused with peace. I walk without fear. Your rivers of love flow freely. My eyes see clearly, My hands serve with passion. On the breath of Your dawn, we soar. (breathe) "On a day I needed to feel His presence encapsulate my being more than ever, I sat before Him and as I did I felt His presence wrap around me. He gently reminded my heart where I truly come from—how I was meant to live according to higher thoughts and ways that exist only in Him. Without Him, I am like chaff in the wind—here one day, gone the next—drifting without purpose beyond my own ambitions. Existence apart from Him is emptiness; it is a life lived in vain. But to breathe Him in…To taste His presence…To feel His embrace…To understand that my life has divine purpose—that changed everything. I was knit together by the hands of Love, taken into the most secret places of His being, and fashioned in His likeness.This leaves me in awe and wonder at the vastness of who He is and all He has done. He is everything. He created humanity for relationship and friendship—His heart in ours, our hearts in His.We are His, and He is ours. Remember that every breath leaving your lungs was intricately designed, counted, and given with a perfect plan in mind. He knows you by name. He sees exactly where you are. He is your inhale and your exhale—and you are His. He longs for you to know Him as deeply as He knows you.You were created to soar on the breath of His dawn. He is your First Love, and you are His.His name is Jesus".