We are not just waiting.
We are holding on,
Claiming what will one day belong to us.

We carry hope like a sacred flame — hidden but burning.
The silence, the prayer, the light we kept holding onto and chasing.

We walked like prophets with empty hands,
Still believing the light would know our names,
And moving toward the light that once whispered us into being.

We do not dare lose our way, even in the dark.
We named every ache a promise.

We won't get weary,
Until the light is ours.
We will not stop,
Until we set the light.

The beaming light is the promise written on our bones.

We stepped unshielded into the blaze — toward ecstasy, not ease.
Still believing in the weight of the mystērion.


---

— Quinn ✍️✨

Yesterday is a ghost —
a fading breath we cannot hold.
“Forget it,” they say,
“It already buried itself in silence.”

Tomorrow is mist —
A shape beyond the horizon.
“Don’t wait for it,” they warn,
“It may never come the way you dreamed.”

But today...
Today stands with open hands.
So we rise,
we walk,
we carry what we can


The future remains unwritten —
a blank sky
aching for stars we haven’t named.
Still, we press ink into it
with trembling hearts.

The future is still a mystery,
But it is ours to shape.
To mold with the trembling strength of now.


After joy that made us sing,
After nights of silence,
After loss that hollowed our ribs,
After missed chances, closed doors, misfortunes endured and roads that turned away —
A voice, quiet and golden,
still finds us.

It tells us gently:

Whatever comes,
whatever breaks,
whatever blesses —
It is ours.
It is all fortune.

--- Quinn ✍️✨

I can see the angels moving side by side,
Following the movement of the cloudy heavens,
Moving endlessly to the voice of the Almighty.

With their garments as white as snow
And their wings moving to the resounding heavens,
With beautiful smiles on their faces.

— Quinn ✍️💖

THE WORLD BEHIND CLOSED DOORS

Can someone tell me how to get out of this predicament?
The old sit in sorrow, the young drown in tears.
When will we all come back together—
In harmony?
So we are not left in disdain after years.

Staying indoors all day long,
Growing weary as the hours drag on.
Thinking about the work of the previous day,
Wondering what tomorrow may hold.

Thinking about the mysteries of life,
Staying in to save one’s life.
Living in distress and agony,
Struggling for a living, to overcome the pain.

Can someone tell me how to get out of this agony?
The poor are lonely, the rich are worrying.
When will we all come back together—
In harmony?
So we do not find ourselves in eternal suffering.

~ Quinn ✍️💖

THE CRY OF OUR SISTERS

— Pains  •  Deaths  •  Legacy

Blood—Sacrifice, pain, violence, buried beneath silence.
With blood, they bled.

Sweat—The pain they endured, the labor, the rise of resistance and survival.
With sweat, they built what we now stand on.

Tears—The grief, mourning, the helpless ache of memory; I mean the kind of memory that never fades.
With tears, they mourned.

Where are my sisters??
Where are they?

No!! Not in the fields, fighting for their mother's nation,
and their blood soaked the soil of sacrifice.
Not in the match-lit caves where light flinches and screams echo—
Where silence follows **** like shadow.

Not in the market, where they are sold like wares,
Where bodies hang like dresses and freedom is
bartered by the pound.

Cla... Cla... Cla—and that goes the sound of the blades,
cutting silence into shreds.
Swords clanged like the cries of our mothers,
Each dagger's whisper a name carved in silence.

They fought, and fought, and fought—and are still.
Their blood flows like deep rivers
strewn with crimson petals.

Can we really get out of this?
Is there an end, or only echoes?

We want an end.
An end with a truth that cannot be buried,
Even if our bodies were.

Does this pain know how to die?

Say their names!
Before the silence swallows them again.
Say their names!!!
So the blood does not dry in vain.

We are the daughters of their tears, their blood, their sweat.
Barefoot, we walk on blades, cursing the stones they dared to cross.
We do not kneel.
We carry fire,
And we rise with their glory in our bones.

~ Quinn ✍️✨