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2025 Wrap-Up
Deleterious winds, and impending liberation, brought is to the precipice of another year, anticipation the preface of the next...
1/3
What follows after the maelstrom is not simply renewal. It is an internal remodeling to liberate the gremlins from your system, and give them a holiday. When they return, you hopefully managed to raise your vibration enough for one of the futures where no gremlins exist.
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2/2
...myself. These sounds, for me, became immutable, glowing vibrations that aren't timebound. I still cherish them.
Slowly, very carefully, I assimilate into this space you hold for me, allowing myself to feel, that it actually carries.
Indulgence?
This is a big word. It often takes more than it gives.
But I deeply enjoy every present moment in which I notice that this space holds me, and you, safely.
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Fading
I wake up with that feeling of falling.
The one I had that day, when keys were handed back, and a last kiss was exchanged.
I've not been falling, any more, in a while. Only, sometimes the system remembers.
Over the past years, the biochemicals that once made you, and me, a we, have faded. It doesn't even really hurt, any more. It just saddens me. Each time we're not...
1/3
His reverence for her was no stage for him to be the star. It was quietly lighting candles, when she walked blind alleys, making sure that, even if she could not find happiness, she'd, at least, remember contentment.
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Starlight twinkles, as if the sky, cloaked in black velvet on a cold night, winks at me to say:
"Unwrap me!"
I pull the golden ribbon of shooting stars.
A silver moon rises, reflecting in a new light, and I'm finding hope - not like a lightning bolt in toasty apolausticism, but rather in the frosty modesty of this silent night.
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Hope.
What a strange little thing.
Sometimes, it warms your heart when the world grows cold. And sometimes, you’ll freeze to death while hoping for a little warmth.
Meanwhile, they slaughter fir at the Christmas tree farm.
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With the heat of the cooking dinner, mirrored by steamy windows, memory rises like an illusive reality, a dream revealed in one hot tear falling: My special holiday spice.
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Stefanie Neumann