Universe
The Liberation of Me
I look around in my box, this place I have built for myself that somehow feels safe. As the storm rages out there I see the beginnings of truth. This box is painful. Each piece of timber laid, each window set, each nail driven a testament to pain.
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The Flower Still
A poem that is a product of contemplation, listening and allowing.
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Act (Not Ask) and You Shall Receive
Don’t like how the Universe is treating you? Perhaps you are simply asking the right questions in the wrong way!
