Has God not given you His Word?
Has He not spoken?
Is His Word not clear as light,
sure as dawn?

If so,
Has He then changed,
That He no longer honors His Word
above His name?

If not,
Why then does your voice tremble,
like one lost in the night?
Why do you sound like one who has no compass,
no promise,
no direction?

Have you forgotten the lot of those who wait
upon the Lord?
Their strength is renewed.
They mount up with wings as eagles.
They run and are not weary.
They walk and are not faint.

Why then are you so discouraged in your
wait?
Why do you act like your wait is God punishing
you?

RISE!
I repeat, RISE!
For the wind of His Word is beneath you.

-

Closer to Home

Every time the storm rolls in,
And I feel like I’m drowning in the deep,
Through every trial, every tear, every thorn—
I no longer wonder if God’s forgotten me.

I’m learning now to hold on to a greater vision:
This world is not my home.
There’s a day, already written, when He’ll call me,
And that truth is my comfort, my strength,
My joy through all life throws my way.

But don’t get me wrong—
Oh, it’s hard.
So deeply hard to keep waiting for the day
When sorrow ends,
When pain, and sickness, war and injustice,
And every form of lack is no more.

But I trust Him to hold me to the end
Cause He will

-

I’ve walked through the world
With heavy feet,
Trying to find a place that doesn’t
Break beneath me.

Oh! There’s beauty here,
But it fades too fast.
Laughter turns quiet in a blink,
Happiness slips through fingers,
And the storms….
they never stop raging.

Still,
Something in me knows:
This isn’t the end.
It’s not the full story.
I’m but a passerby.

So I keep walking,
Step by step,
Carrying hope like a lamp in the dark.

Because with every breath,
I’m getting closer—
Not to the end,
But to Home.

And I don’t need streets of gold
Or mansions waiting for me—
Just the sound of His voice
Saying, “You made it.”
That alone is enough.

-

So I ask—
is this all there is?
The darkness.
The emptiness.
The ache.

Is life not about being okay?
How long do I hold on before the
light comes back?

Oh wait—
do I just have to be grateful
for this breath,
for this moment?

Hahahaha.

I laughed.
I guess that’ll be enough to get me
through for today.

Maybe I’ll give up tomorrow
Maybe I won’t
But either way, I just hope I make it to
a better place—
whether it’s here,
or in whatever waits when this life
finally lets me go.

-

What if this is all there is?
Just me struggling not to disappear
every fucking day.

And what if this fog never lifts?
Do I just keep learning how to move
through it—
slow?

Do I keep going, day after day,
trying to prove I still can,
even if I don’t feel anything
when I do?

And no—
I’ve heard it with everyone saying,
“You just have to be strong.”
True, maybe.
But no.
I don’t want to hear it anymore.

How can I be strong when I don’t feel
present in the life I call mine?
It feels like I’m watching my life through
a window I can’t open.





(swipe to continue)

-

Going through the motions like
someone watching from outside
their body.

I say “I’m good” all the time,
even when no one really asks—
scared they’ll see beneath the charade.

I used to believe there was more.
That the world was full of meaning
waiting to be found.

Now I just hope it doesn’t swallow me
before I find it.

I wake up every day with a hollow ache
I don’t think I can keep pressing down.

But every time I try to speak,
the weight behind the words gets drowned
in the noise….so no one hears.

I feel like I’m underwater,
but still breathing.
I ache for something I can’t name.
Maybe a reason to stay.

Because if this is all…

No.
Please,
tell me this isn’t all there is.
Tell me there’s something more.
Something real,
something my soul
can reach for.

Because if this is all…….

-

What if this is all there is?
Just you and me in this half-lit moment,
trying not to breathe too loud?

What if we don’t make it past this night,
this fight,
this silence we both pretend isn’t real?

You say it’s nothing.
I nod—but I feel it breaking underneath
our skin.

We don’t say what we’re scared of.
But I know we’re both holding the same
question in our mouths.

Is love still love if it fades this fast?

You touch my hand like it might burn.
And I let you—because maybe that’s all
we can do.

We’re falling apart quietly.
But so what if it ends?
So what if this hurts?

If it was real,
even for a second—maybe that’s enough.

-

It’s not easy to hand you the thread,
when I’ve spent so long holding it tight.

But you get it and wait quietly.

So I try—
little pieces at a time.
Ugly truths I want kept.
And you listen like it matters,
staring at me with deep eyes, like you
see beyond me.

I know, deep down, I’m still learning how
to lean in without fear —
still learning that your arms aren’t a lie.

I want to believe you won’t leave when I
show you the cracks.
I want to speak without choosing each word
like a stone.

So don’t stop being patient with me.
I’m trying—even if it’s slow.
Even if it scares me.

-

I’m here, but not quite.
I’m close enough to feel the edge,
but my feet don’t find the ground.
It feels like I’m falling,
with no hope of landing.

I try to speak out loud,
but the words come out sideways.
So I smile, so you won’t ask.
You nod, pretending you know.

I’m almost something.
Almost seen.
But I keep slipping through the middle
of myself.

Everything I touch moves away.
Everything I love just stays still.
So don’t try to catch me.
I’m not ready to be held.
Not yet.

Let me drift,
just a little longer.
Let me float,
until I’m real.

-

You’re someone I knew
but not like this.
You’re close enough
to miss.

We sit
like we used to,
but now
there’s air between us.

You ask
if I’m okay.
I nod.
But no,
I’m not the same.

You’re not a stranger.
But you’re not
mine.

-