How many lifetimes must we live in order to become who we’ve always been?
How many failures must we endure?
How much sensation can the body hold?
It is not my mind that writes
Not the pen in between my fingers
Not the feeling of keys on a keyboard declining,
bouncing back up to meet my fingertips
You see – these words flow from the heart
With a surety that even I can’t describe
All I know is that creativity;
The ability to write,
to sing,
to paint,
to love,
The birth
Creativity is a gift from the wonderous Being above
I don’t have all of the answers;
Most times I’m barely sure of anything
But what I am certain of
Is the guiding force The One is
Leading me to passages and roads that I never would’ve thought I’d experience
And so,
Embodying that divinity, sharing this human experience
The integration of ego and spirit,
The cultivation of the experience of the divine
Is a life’s work I wish to express
For that is the truest work of creativity
The art of being,
Then ascending
Welcome to my world
Genuinely Jannah 