Moments created like these are
Inner self doubts radically increasing
Never to be seen walking along side my integrity
Dimwitted in open doors, by all reasons
Losing my individuality through the perfunctory route
Endured by lonely nights and heartaches, I am left
Soul searching with a bottle of bitter whiskey
Satisfaction taken behind a dark alley, I knew
Justice was no longer a neighbor
Original sins still calls me, my silent whisper
Yearns for possibilities—do I exist?
Everyone loves being inspired, we get great work done, time fly’s by without noticing and we feel a sense of peace and joy in what we are doing. I used to think moments of inspiration just came on good days when things lined up right for one reason or another. According to Wayne Dyer, this is partly correct! It’s not a coincidence that I feel inspired when events or things line up in our favor.
Consider that the word coincidence relates to the mathematical ideas about angles that coincide.
When 2 angles coincide they are said to fit perfectly together, not accidentally.
Now what if we purposely aligned our behavior every day with exactly what makes us inspired, it sounds real simple doesn’t it! We would just need to find out what makes us inspired.
Well take a look at the word inspiration, to Wayne this means being “In-Spirit”.
When we are in-spirit we are inspired. Being in-spirit is being connected to our source (God).
If you found any of that remotly interesting, this book will teach you to stay inspired throughout your day.
Imagine every moment connected to your source of unending inspiration. All it takes is a return to form, be like your creator. Simplify life, Slow down, always seek to give and to serve others, enjoy the moment, listen and believe that everything is part of the whole, yet a unique expression of it.
If you really think about it, who has ever felt inspired to do something after telling a lie, cheating, committing a violent act, yelling etc. etc.. It is the opposite of the feeling of inspiration, and unlike God.
Daddy left
So much to be said
But my teeth had scatter my tongue so poorly
A goodbye wasn’t even tempted
Nothing came out; I stood there and didn’t even fight
To say the words that had been slowly prepared
Two nights ago when I tripped over his yellow suitcase
Shame still follows me home,
Its intensity became my fame
Disgrace—my reflection likes to hurl at me
A dagger would be a smoother pain
Because when it happened
My young heart was frayed out my flat chest
On the floor left to bleed
Bit dramatic but true, I had to wipe the mess
The drastic realization when I dropped the knife
My wrist slowly bleeding, of course it had to be slow
So I can think about my actions
The loneliness slowly creeping behind me
Waiting and dancing to the ‘Saddest goodbye’
Momma left
So much to say but
The beginning has shattered my speech
You would think that I learned
But the pain, greater than before stopped me
I wanted to reach out, asked the reasons why
When she took her bags, my young feet stalking
Closer than her shadow,
My knees scratched from crawling on the floor
Begging and pledging, that was the first and last time I begged
I left
My childhood dreams and hopes
Crumbing more than bread crumbs
I cried- the last time I cried
My eyes stood clear and bright
The sun compare to me, was such a wasteful shame
But deep instead, in the corner of what’s left of my broken
Heart, people are always leaving.