faith

  • The Grace Room

    The Grace Room

    You can whisper faith
    into anyone,
    into anything.

    Step outside your body
    peel back the skin,
    look deeper.

    Not when, not what,
    but how you spend your time
    this is how you measure life.

    Connecting.
    Disconnecting.
    An endless loop.

    Your purpose?
    To fall out of it,
    into the portal.

    To feel its beauty,
    dark, because it is deep.

    When your senses align,
    you will hear the language:
    thoughts humming,
    emotions pulsing,
    questions spiraling,
    occurrences folding
    into experience.

    You choose to live divergent,
    but as whom?

    We resist,
    because we know:
    the photograph was taken
    long ago.

    We are the ghosts here.

    Death is the grace room.
    We become
    the culprit,
    the witness,
    the judge.

    Our verdict,
    a compass
    for the journey.

  • The Certain Uncertainty of Becoming

    The Certain Uncertainty of Becoming

    All that is good in life
    is not always better
    and not everything that is better
    is good.
    Risks and rewards
    are both good and bad
    at the same time,
    swaying in the equilibrium.

    True contentment
    is not mere acceptance
    but choice-choosing
    to step into the unknown.
    The true essence
    is not necessarily rooted
    in the certainty
    of what is visible,
    as much as it rests
    in embracing the uncertainty
    within every decision
    we dare to take.
    This is faith:
    a recognition and trust
    in the unseen,
    and the roles we play
    in this universe
    and in our existence.

    We are like a single cell
    in the body of the universe-
    an infinitesimal part,
    unseen, yet integral.
    Although small,
    we carry the essence of life,
    steering it on this course.
    We are participants
    and reflection of a universe-
    that creates,
    writing the story itself.
    Our lives are mirrors
    showcasing experiences back
    to the source or the higher forces,
    by which otherwise
    they might not sense it.

    The higher spirits send out
    their frequency signals
    to neither interfere
    nor react
    but rather to harmonize
    with the soul of being:
    a state untouched and untainted
    by the usual chaos of life.
    Let those who live
    engage with those living,
    and let beings connect
    with being.
    The gods we have created
    are ours and only our own;
    they are symbols
    of truths we seek
    and fears we cannot escape.

    We set them up ironically
    from our eclipse
    of inner light.
    Equally, every path goes somewhere,
    with them all together leading
    to an interconnected memory.
    Creation and submission
    are not opposites
    but parts of the same cycle.
    And those superior beings
    we imagine exist
    only because we dared
    to romance them into being.
    They act as a reminder
    of our capacity to co-create
    as well as to be co-created
    by the vast universe.
    The observer observes
    the creator
    so that the creator
    can be.
    The universe is
    a lucid dream, alive
    because we are.

    Every step we take,
    every decision we make,
    tallies on the infinite
    weave of life.
    There is meaning
    in walking a path
    only because walking one
    reveals more of who
    we already are.
    We realize the complexity
    of living our stains,
    in that we live
    in our perishableness
    and touch upon
    growing infinity.
    We so casually are named
    moments of eternity.
    We are, yet we move
    across the boundlessness,
    our actions spreading
    a broad ripple across it.

    To truly live is
    to accept this paradox
    as it unfolds-
    a paradox of uncertainty
    and the interconnectedness of life.
    To find peace
    not in certainty
    but in the vulnerable mystery
    of existence.
    This is where authentic contentment
    shines; it becomes alive,
    dynamic, and anchored
    in every breath
    and in the awareness
    that every moment
    holds the potential for
    creation and connection.
    Contentment fills meaning
    into imagination.

    We are the creators
    of meaning
    and the architects
    of experiences.
    The gods we quest for
    are within us,
    born of our togetherness, longings,
    fears, and aspirations.
    We are those making;
    for the act of creating,
    choosing, we adhere
    to the eternal dance of life.

    This dance also teaches
    that the way is truth.
    The beauty of life lies
    in the whole journey-
    not in the moments
    when that journey attains
    its end.
    In every step, breath,
    and moment of faith
    that carries us out
    of the cave,
    there is a hazy beauty
    waiting to unfold.
    We aren’t entirely there;
    we are just cyclists
    in a state of infinite becoming.
    And in becoming,
    we are already whole.

  • Egg of the Unknown

    Egg of the Unknown

    Darkness of the unknown
    Lays an egg that goes astray.
    A crystal tear, and an honest smile:
    Praise the believer,
    And forgive the blind.

    Filed under: 🜃 Infinite – exploring the unseen forces behind creation, truth, and existence.

  • The Stories of My Tears

    The Stories of My Tears

    Every night, as far back as I could remember,
    I shiver. I cry myself to sleep.
    It was the only way I knew how to fall asleep,
    The only feeling I knew.

    Tears are my friends. Each tear is a story,
    A real life tale with colorful characters,
    And the self I only knew through struggle, pain
    And a mind separate of the body.
    What I knew was not what I did.

    The environment was hell, and the characters lost.
    There was no writer, nor a script.
    It was always impulse, reaction to an escape
    Of a struggle within a struggle.
    There was no time to pause.
    A moment of reset could not be found.

    I do not count sheep, I peeled tears.
    I escaped so far away,
    I lost the captain seat of my body and actions.
    Born autistic, with no diagnosis.
    Literally forced yourself to speak,
    But words don’t come out right.

    Born in a family of migrants,
    Trapped in a civil war.
    Unwelcomed anywhere.
    At home, at school, outside in the neighborhood.
    The only escape is the mind.

    Every obstacle overcome was never good enough.
    Constantly chasing normal.
    And in my mind I know.
    Yes, everyone is constantly chasing normal.
    And we are all tired.

    Can I be me? Can I find me beneath the graffiti?
    Live your life. And I’ll live mine. A dream.
    Can I live my life?
    Mine will always include tears and smiles.
    But know that my voice is mute.

    I am too scared to speak my mind.
    Always beaten whenever I spoke from the heart.
    The soul is the only dialogue. Loud or mute.

    At the end of each day,
    All of the grima from the excessive stimulation,
    A volcano inside is ready to erupt.
    I take a very deep breath,
    To bring light into the volcano, and simply live.

    I escape for a fresh breath of another day.
    The only possible faith, and only choice,
    Is to believe in today, and in tomorrow.

    Living such a life, God can only be found
    In little moments. Not some place far away,
    Nor living in my house.
    I am in his house, and therefore,
    He is in my moments.

    Filed under: 🜁 Self – tracing the inner landscapes of thought, feeling, and becoming.

  • Faith is Recognition

    Faith is Recognition

    Invisible world out.
    Beyond what eyes can see.
    Faith, the key,
    But how can we calculate it?

    The hidden force that is known
    We recognize it
    Only believing by faith
    But wisdom’s source
    Giving the unknown a name.

    That is what faith is.
    What depths of cosmic stream.
    Mind supports campaigns
    Which neither sense of logic nor thinking helps out.

    Quantum worlds and mystical thoughts.
    In the wilderness faith finds a pattern
    Where no other man can find one.

    Nothing can touch us
    But we are touched.
    Faith and knowledge move side by side.

    Transformational power lies
    To recognize is to transform.
    Our inner norm takes its shape from faith
    It endeavors into infinite potentialities.

    Filed under: 🜃 Infinite – exploring the unseen forces behind creation, truth, and existence.

  • The Magic Alchemy of What’s to Come

    The Magic Alchemy of What’s to Come

    In now’s fertile ground,
    We’re sowing the seeds of tomorrow’s delight.
    Gratitude, a bright bow,
    Bends over an alloyed time.
    .
    We pray for blessings not yet come,
    And with our hearts on fire we say thanks.
    Abundance is invited to occupy this moment

    A gracious act before its due day
    Painting vivid futures there and then.
    With grateful thoughts,
    We pave the path.

    Affirmations by morning light,
    Thankful for what will be preserved later on.
    Celebratory penning in our notebooks
    For unseen harvests yet borne.

    Visualize
    With grateful heart,
    The joys that lie ahead.

    Doubt will dissolve away into thanksgiving,
    While trust takes center stage.

    The universe’s wisdom
    Responds to grateful song.
    From present thanks
    To futures blessings.

    Thank before receiving,
    The gifts not yet in hand.
    In this magic act,
    We transform metal to gold.

    Filed under: 🜃 Infinite – exploring the unseen forces behind creation, truth, and existence.

  • The Spellbinding Sway of Belief

    The Spellbinding Sway of Belief

    Belief lives in
    The hearts and minds,
    Where it casts its spell.

    Its roots grow unseen,
    And are fed by hopes and dreams.

    Belief bends the world,
    And makes the strong bow,
    With a soft shepherd’s call.

    Unseen yet deeply felt,
    Belief is a force
    That shapes and molds.

    It can sway souls.
    It can bend wills,
    And lead each to their spot.

    In giving in or standing strong,
    Belief leaves its diacritic.

    It echoes through time,
    Quiet and loud.

    Belief is a silent power,
    Both simple and deep.

    Filed under: 🜂 Other – reflecting on connection, relationships, and the spaces between souls.

  • A Religion Without God?

    A Religion Without God?

    Lost in the ligature
    between letters of the word,
    riding the waves
    of the cursive line.

    Writing is liberation.
    Reading is freedom.
    Truth is honesty.

    Stories are home.
    A live word lived
    honestly as truth,
    simply within the blood flow
    of the letters cursive veins.
    A word is a
    life lived,
    in liberation,
    in freedom,
    in honesty.

    Trading paint colors with the leaves,
    stories and folktales with the branches.

    With time,
    the print of the word is stronger,
    and is engraved in our will.
    Or it is washed away,
    and pentimento is pargeted.

    We die when
    we’re forgotten.

    Calendar create, ritual and elevation.
    Community and art,
    fragile and vulnerable.
    The ordinary is remarkable.
    Words repeat.

    Amen

    Filed under: 🜁 Self – tracing the inner landscapes of thought, feeling, and becoming.