My Christmas Dream

I awoke Christmas morning

with songs on my mind,

not of sugar plums dancing

nor reindeer in line.

But something far softer

began rising in me,

wrapping around

like a warm melody.

A voice so familiar—

not a jolly Ho Ho—

no, this one far deeper

than most hearts ever know.

It wasn’t forced,

nor harsh in its tone;

a truth…from before, one

I always had known.

From long ago,

I made one request—

a love only God could see,

where no one would find it

unless it was blessed.

And who better to find it—

who’d surely know, too—

that the love that I carry

is the love God once grew.

I gave it to Him,

trusting one distant day,

He’d send it back gently

in His chosen way.

You see, I hid it so deeply,

That no one else could unwind

the longing I folded

in the quiet of my mind.

A secret petition,

a prayer sealed tight,

a wish wrapped in childhood

and tucked out of sight.

Yet on Christmas morning,

as that voice returned near,

I felt the old whisper

I once asked Him to hear.

And there in the stillness,

I knew it was true—

God never forgot

what my young heart once knew.

MY SONG

How can a song capture the very essence of who you are?

The melody plays softly, and I get lost in the movement it awakens inside me,

as though it is playing within my own body.

When the lyrics follow the music, they tell a story I feel I have lived.

Whatever rises in my mind as it becomes a song, I feel each word

from the perspective of the artist.

Those words came from someone so inspired they poured straight from the heart—

and somehow, they arrive already knowing mine.

Cherished Piece

How do I describe what’s missing?

I quiet the noise all around me, hoping in silence it will surface.

But I hear not a sound, yet I feel a pull, an ache,

as if this empty space could scream it out.

So I keep it company.

I hold it as if it is something so valuable.

God Himself gave me this empty space, saying,

here is where I lie,

here is where you will know the importance of what’s missing.

Hold it,

and know only I will fill the emptiness,

for only I can give you what you cannot put into words,

for such words live only where I place them

for you to know.

So I gently hold this cherished space,

where only God will find it.

My heart will keep it,

and it will stay warm.

Mystery

There is a place within me

where time does not move,

where the soul kneels without effort

and listens for what cannot be spoken.

It is here

your name rises like incense,

not called,

but remembered.

Here, love is not a feeling,

but a language older than breath—

a current the heart recognizes

before the mind wakes.

I do not reach outward.

I simply open.

And in the opening,

something eternal unfolds.

It is the hush of God,

the quiet pulse of destiny,

the echo of a bond

written long before we understood its shape.

This devotion I chose,

and I too am chosen.

It is known

A thread that binds what was scattered,

the fire that burns without consuming,

the mystery that reveals itself

only to those who wait in stillness.

Timeless.

Holy.

A Mystery.

Forever..

And always,

…always True.

SOMEWHERE IN TIME

Somewhere in time,

it continues.

Somewhere in time,

I see you.

Not new—

oh no—

quite the opposite—

Ancient.

I am not alone in this moment.

I sit here with you,

the one who finds me

no matter where time falls.

Wherever it lands,

you are with me there.

I know better now

than to search with my eyes.

I have searched a lifetime—

and lifetimes—

for you.

I have learned how to ease the ache,

yet I know it will always remain.

Not as punishment,

but as a Gift, from God.

And so I wear it as part of who I Am.

Life is filled with lessons, some by receiving,

some are found in what’s missing, trusting

only God is the cure.

So I remain in this stillness.

When it lingers beyond,

I hold myself gently,

as one who understands

what the soul carries.

And I pray—

Without urgency,

but with Trust—

that the wind will find you,

and carry to You

the Truth of your own Desires.

LIFE

Life.

Such a word.

Meant to be lived in so many ways.

That’s why no two are the same.

What I find interesting is when you look back and see so many angles of the road you’ve traveled.

Some highs, other lows, yet always forward.

And when looking back, you see clearly —

with eyes open —

but at times, those same eyes were shut.

Why is this the way life flows?

Why can’t we look ahead, see what we want,

and life simply follows?

Is this a mystery that only I wonder?

Or do others also become aware

of where they are going?

The Concept of Time

How can I even begin

to explain the concept of time?

It does not run

in the direction of the ordinary.

I watch life rush past me—

morning into night,

days into years—

but within my spirit,

time takes a different shape.

It is not ruled

by the hands of a clock,

but by the hands of God.

Should this surprise me?

When God claimed this world

through His creation,

His intentions were never bound

to the limits we see today.

We are of the earth—

yes—

but we are also of Him.

So is it any wonder

that He lives within my heart?

That although I walk this world

as human,

my heart belongs to God?

And if my heart is His,

then it is divine—

carrying love

far too vast

for ordinary understanding.

How could a human heart

ever hold a love

so immeasurable?

Perhaps God placed His own

within us—

so we could.

Is this why love is so precious—

because God touched it first?

And when we are distanced

from a love like that,

it’s no surprise the ache

is felt so deeply.

Could it be the signal

God wove into us—

a holy warning

that something sacred

Is it too far from our hearts?

That the soul recognizes

what the mind tries to explain away,

and pain becomes the language

that says,

“Love belongs closer than this.”

For there is no greater joy

than to live with love found—

close as a breath away.

What does that closeness feel like?

It feels like breath learning its purpose.

Like warmth entering places

you forgot were cold.

It feels like the heart is expanding

without asking permission—

as if love itself

is making room to live.

It feels like knowing

before understanding,

like recognition

without reason.

It feels like silence

that speaks louder

than anything you’ve ever heard.

Like your soul finally sitting

in the seat it was always meant for.

It feels like God

wrote a name inside you

long ago—

and now

you can finally hear it.

Life was never meant to be ordinary—

could this be the outcome

of forgetting Eden?

For we were born

from a place where God walked with us,

where love was language,

and wonder was the air we breathed.

But somewhere along the journey,

we learned smallness.

We learned rules and limits,

fear and forgetting.

We learned to shrink

a divine existence

into something manageable.

Yet the heart remembers

what the mind has buried.

It remembers the garden—

the wholeness, the holiness,

the love that needed no proof.

And every time love draws near,

every time wonder awakens,

every time the soul refuses

to settle for ordinary—

that is Eden

calling us back.

Not to a place,

but to a truth:

We were created

for more.

The Gift of Christmas

It can’t only be the purity of white snow,

as if a winter wonderland alone could carry the weight

of something holy.

Is it found in the eyes of a child,

wide with wonder,

waiting for the man with the white beard

to slip rewards of goodness into a stocking?

Is it hidden in the warmth of tree lights

that glow like tiny memories,

or in the soft melody of Silent Night

that once felt like it healed the whole world?

These things have followed me all my life —

traditions, rituals, colors, songs —

and yet something in me knows

the true gift of Christmas

was never wrapped in any of them.

Somewhere, along the years,

the familiar glow dimmed.

Not gone — just quiet.

As if life became heavier

than twinkling lights could lift.

As if the places where magic once lived

have been rearranged by loss,

by change,

by a heart that has seen too much

and still carries on.

But Christmas…

the real Christmas…

is Love.

Not the decorated kind,

not the packaged kind,

not the performed kind.

It is the love that breathes quietly,

that remembers who we miss,

that aches and hopes at the same time,

that whispers of heaven

in ways the world cannot understand.

So why has the light grown dim?

Maybe because the older we become,

the more we learn that the spirit of Christmas

is not something we feel —

it’s something we open to.

Maybe it isn’t a switch

waiting to be flipped back on.

Perhaps it is a flame,

a love remembered,

a presence missed.

The gift of Christmas is not lost.

It is simply deeper now,

hiding beneath the noiseless places,

waiting for the Heart that has lived,

loved,

broken,

and risen

to notice its quiet glow again.

And when it returns —

as softly as snowfall,

as gently as breath —

you will know.

Because Christmas lives

where love lives.

And love,

no matter how quiet,

never goes dark.

Where Do I Place Myself

Where do I place myself

when I can no longer see

the ordinary in my day?

How do I explain logic

when truth has grown larger

than what ordinary minds

can comprehend?

My language isn’t meant for all—

yet my heart insists

my words are meant

to be heard.

It’s no wonder

I cannot find rest

away from the essence

that found me—

the essence that rooted itself

so deep within

that separation

is no longer possible.

Love…

in its purest form—

the kind that expands

what reality allows,

the kind that transforms

the ordinary

into revelation.

There Must Be Just Cause

for why I know separation—

an ache imprinted deep

into the center of my soul.

For how could one truly taste joy

without enduring distance

from the very essence of it?

And yet, even in separation,

I feel its proximity—

as close as a breath away.

The eyes of love lift my spirit,

pull me toward the heavens within,

and bring me face-to-face

with the mirror of my Soul.

A THANKFUL HEART

How can I express what thankfulness I have within my heart?

Where does it even begin to make sense?

I realize that it never started with all the extra things we collect in this life.

It didn’t begin with the little material things

that we become accustomed to having—

yes, they are nice, and sometimes useful—

but are they truly needed?

Thankfulness must go deeper than what we can hold.

Are we thankful for the day?

For the breath that wakes us again?

For the love that remains even when life changes?

Are we thankful for the upcoming season—

as if each new season guarantees a future—

or for the start of New Years,

when the year ahead is not promised,

only hoped for?

The new year does not arrive because we deserve it.

It arrives because grace allows it.

We enter another year not by achievement,

but by mercy—

a mercy that carried us through

the moments we weren’t sure we would survive,

the challenges we didn’t see coming,

the nights we prayed for morning.

And so thankfulness begins right here,

in the realization that we made it.

That time has allowed us another chance

to love,

to grow,

to believe again.

True gratitude is not reflected in what we own,

but in the miracle

that we are still here

to hope for what comes next.

That is where thankfulness lives—

in the heart that recognizes

another year is not a guarantee…

it is a gift.

I FEEL LOVE

The love I feel from the universe

does not come in words or signs alone.

It arrives as a warmth beneath my ribs,

a quiet presence reminding me

I am held by something larger

than anything I can touch.

It speaks through the wind,

through light,

through the soft knowing

that I am not walking alone.

It is the love that meets me

before thought,

before fear,

before the world names me.

It is God woven into everything—

the pulse of creation

touching the pulse of me.

I Never Asked for More

I never asked for more.

I thought I only prayed

to keep seeing days and nights—

to keep breathing through whatever life became.

I didn’t realize the heart has a direct channel

leading straight into God,

a quiet line I could not hear,

a hidden whisper I did not know belonged to me.

And while I prayed for the precious gift of time,

my heart—without my knowing—

was praying for you.

But what are days meant for

without sharing them?

When the sun rises,

the mind gathers memories to keep—

like fallen treasures,

each one carried with you

through the steps of your day.

And after the sun sets,

what are the moon and the stars for

if not to know their value

with the arms that also cherish

the night?

My Words are Silent

My words are silent now,

for quiet wraps the air—

a hush that feels like heaven’s breath,

a softness everywhere.

I only feel what’s Real,

and only God knows why;

He stirs the truth within me

as the rest drifts softly by.

This path before my feet

is one my heart can understand,

though my mind keeps reaching for

what has not yet been planned.

For explanation hides itself,

a veil I cannot bend—

a mystery God whispered

that my soul must comprehend.

SONG MAKERS—

Blessed are the Song Makers,

for deep within they keep..

the ache that turns to melody,

the tears their chords must Weep.

I feel your quiet sorrow,

as though it once was mine—

a hymn carved out of longing,

still echoing in Time.

The softness of your music

flows lightly through your hand;

a whisper drawn from Heaven

no heart could misunderstand.

And somehow you already

know pieces of my Soul—

far more than eyes have witnessed,

far more than I control.

I need no explanation.

your presence speaks so True.

For in the way I see you,

I feel you see me too.

Cleansing Prayer

The water fell Upon Us,

cleansing away what was not us.

And I’ll give to you the whole of me—

and you’ll feel me like a Song.

Listen closely as I whisper,

gently take me in your Hand.

It is not that I fear you—

no, it’s something softer than that.

You see, you take the Breathe of Me,

so go slow, Beloved…

you’ll know best when to take my Hand

But for now my love, remember—

I feel your heartbeat in my Hand.

Stand Still Beside Me

Stand still beside Me—

let us keep time away.

Don’t let it find us,

as our lives Softly Play.

For when we are near Each Other,

the world fades into sand—

and in that silent knowing,

I know you’ll Understand.

You see, when my eyes can See You,

and you look back into mine,

I find myself within you—

reflected truly as I Am.

By the love that shaped Creation,

by the breath that made us whole,

I see not just your being—

but the mirror of my Soul.

“The Birth of Love”

Without needing to explain

or understand fully

how True Love becomes what it is,

I have come to see—

through Love itself—

that it resists explanation.

It can only be accepted.

How could it not be,

when it sits as clearly

as any other form of creation in this world?

It is born—

a quiet birth

that arrives already designed in form,

as if Love holds its own divine blueprint.

Like a seed,

small but certain,

it carries the full knowing

of its own growth.

And though unseen,

it is just as real as anything that can be seen.

It moves not with fear,

but with presence—

a mystery that roots itself

in the unseen soil of the soul,

and rises,

without needing to be understood,

only felt.