I am a writer.

One who can close myself away into a small dimly lit space and gush life onto an insubstantial substance of fibrous material..in hopes that once finished..reads of something that makes sense and releases a tad of this confined fury..that whirls in my ever churning mind.

I am a Dreamer.

A human born into disparaging circumstances, that grasped for anything tangible, as early as I can possibly recollect. With a never ending desire to find truth and love beyond the abuse that I endured throughout all of my childhood..Determined to view life..clear of the filters embedded over my eyes, attempting to force my mind to function through the inherited dysfunction.

I am a Lover.

Believing in a Love so genuine, that it literally heals all human afflictions .
Investing in a hope in all things soulful and lucid.
Craving to Love free of the bounds thought fathomable, truly devoting to other souls..the most valuable asset - Time - and desirous to Lead with Love in every moment.

I am a Writer.

This question will be the death of me.
It's not quite where we came from last,
nor where we pay taxes.
It's not where we want to be,
or the house we grew up in, or the nostalgia we feel in some cities.
It's not where our origins trace back to,
where our ancestors developed our roots,
in fact, I'd argue
home is not an external location.
It's not the soft grass in our front yards,
it's not the countryside or cityscape,
it's not the creaky wooden floors that collected dust on our socks,
Home is a feeling.
It nests within us during our travels while we're looking for it,
it is present when we rest our head
against a sunny window in the car.
Home is in friendships where laughing makes you cry
and crying makes you laugh,
it is in fleeting romances, holding hands,
the smell of you on my pillow,
it is with certain family members.
I find home in familiar smells and easy living,
it is in solitude and fresh air.
What a feeling of comfort,
where we can grab those fleeting moments,
and stitch them together like a grandiose stained glass window in a cathedral.
Home is a compilation of every place we have ever been,
are going to go, and where we are at presently.
What makes you feel at home?

She followed the wind as she sang into the night,
A lullaby for all the children sleeping wrapped up tight,
A song to soothe a thousand souls,
Upon the breast to enliven a thousand goals.
The joyful and saddening songs of the night,
Passed between ruby lips - a joyful sight.

Her heart burning with passion,
Her eyes a glow,
She started up humbly, coarse and low,
A story of a young girl turned old,
Up in Scotland, starting her journey through the cold,
Caledonia, it's title my sweethearts, you will see,
My song, forged from experience and joyful glee.

How satisfying and sublime it is to know
that each wrinkle deep rooted on your face is to show
each of life's wonderful and more difficult points in time wherein
our moments of laughter, tears and frowns are ingrained in our skin -
marks of life and a sign of a beautiful soul within
who has truly experienced life to it's fullest form -
a person who knows existence can be a violent storm.

Think of the true beauty in the world,
where you find that artistry doesn't need to fit expectations that have been furled.

I find mine in captivating laughter of babies; which reduces me to tears,
not those of sadness or melancholy - but of overwhelm as their giggles enter my ears,
because there is nothing more exquisite than the mere notion of existing and of life,
the feelings of love and hope in my heart are strife.

What about beauty in those who refuse to give up, ever?
I often wonder how in the world people grow such seraphic strength within and keep it forever!
They get knocked down over and over again,
yet time after time they get back up, pushing aside their pain.

These elegant people keep moving forward - some have no choice,
but they prove the only way is up and they do not waste their time; instead they have an active voice.
They are inexplicably unstoppable,
and are the true essence of beauty - and are in fact unbreakable.

Or what about the beauty of fate?
The pulchritude of chance encounters await.
That moment when you meet someone special and become star-crossed lovers,
and recognise you both have an exceptional purpose; and a connection that hovers.
A time when your eyes lock and your souls connect?
The magnificence in these bespoke experiences *****.
To share your journey in another's grace,
and get to encounter their beautiful embrace.