Birds will fly, they'll soar and be free. You can't control us, so let us be...


Zelda. Camille. Frances. Anais. Frida.

The women who light the fire in my heart & soul.

Their stories, often can only be found between the lines, if you are a seeker of truth. And I am……always…..

These beautiful souls and countless other women known & unknown to the world have fallen pray to and been consumed by their ‘loved one’. I realize that there are multitudes of people, men & women that have fallen victim in this dance. But I am moved to write about a few of the women who for whatever reason unbeknownst to me pierced my heart & soul.

Why that is I am not certain of. I suppose it is a number of things. That what some call ‘true love’ can contain things so impure and destructive, so selfish and self-serving. That this ‘love’ can be reduced to a narcissism that leaves everyone involved with his or her cup as empty as an unloved child. Longing so desperately to be held and filled with truth of a real love. A real love that is for intents and purposes lost to this world.

To be used in the name of ‘love.’ To take what one wants or needs from a person and throw away the rest. As if one is just disposable. To think one has a right to do that to another living, breathing child of God. Or worse simply born of a base desire when you say what you have for the other is ‘love’. All it really is seems an insatiable need for more, more, more. More fame, more authenticity, more money, more adoration shined upon them. Which if they were to get it all…. could never fill the hole in them to begin with. For only one true righteous love will fill that hole.

So upon seeing something so beautiful, glorious & authentic outside of themselves, they sought to possess it. Once possessing it they seek to consume and integrate it into themselves. Willing it to add to their own shine, their own sense of self-worth. An impossible task. All to than lead to the inevitable desire to destroy it, as they knew in their hearts it was never theirs to begin with. They could never have that other person’s light. And shining as bright as it did only seemed to reveal to them how dim their own was. If there was ever one at all.

A lie is a lie is a lie. In due time, a lie will always sow its distorted, ugly and rotten fruit. Bitter and unappetizing. A fruit that must be, can only be dumped into the trash to rot and smell and reduce to nothing. To not be seen again. To pretend it never even grew as they hastily seek another seed to steal and hide. Again to try to plant this in their selfish, self-serving yard.

A yard that is so far from clean. It cannot even be called a garden. As a garden has requirements this place knows nothing about. This yard is never tended to, loved or nurtured. Maybe only a minute moving around of the disposed casualties of their life, where accountability is nothing they can comprehend. Broken empty cups and dead babies are the stuff repositioned to trick themselves or the next lonely hearted fool to misjudge the trash for art. The causalities for casual carelessness. A cacophony of disposed of collective pain and suffering. All in the name of their ‘love’. But ultimately revealing their lies and self hate.

Their wants, their needs, their unresolved issues. They eat like ravenous cannibals off another’s very heart and soul. This is what they call ‘love’. Yet this is the farthest thing from it. They vainly rename their murderous actions and reactions as ‘passion.’ Without real shame they claim and name their wrongdoings ‘love’.

This special kind of ugly only saved for hellish nightmares and horrors of the worst kind. Self deception the most slippery slope of all.

It is so distasteful as it pretends to be all of these very righteous and desirable things. It has oh so much to say about but is always devoid of wisdom in the trite content that spills out. Only more banal self proclamation’s that are miles from the truth for anyone with eyes to see.

Love would never steal for it is complete unto itself. It only uplifts, enhances and rejoices in the coming together with another. In the lifting of another, selflessly and agendaless. This is a commodity to which we as human beings are sadly not in possession of. Not in these kinds of yards anyway.

For the brilliance of these women are rare breeds and must have a proper garden to grow and flourish. To blossom to full potential and share their unearthly fragrance for all the world to smell and partake. To have a gardener who needs nothing from them and only exalts in how beautiful they blossom. A gardener who wants only the very best for them. Not a cowardly thief in the night, so small and insignificant he must try to destroy them to have for himself a modicum of importance. Which born of a lie means it is nothig at all.

Rare is a man strong enough to truly love women like these. I dare say they may not exist here at all. For they themselves have never been fed properly therefore so how can they give what they know nothing of. It is sad for all concerned truly. A world that looks in all the wrong places and destroys each other in the process, in the name of ‘love.’

The distortion of ‘love’ hurts and confuses these women. They wonder should they change, be who this other wants them to be? Dim their light and look up to something that is so far below them to begin with? They pretend and dare not delight in the denial of being alone. All-one. When the diming of their light has done just that. Left them alone. Seeking ,crying, denying the beauty of their soul.

To abandon yourself, whoever you are, is a hell like no other. The world will tell you this is what you must do. To love. To not be alone. To fit in. To be seen and not heard. To not be different. Or to be different for equally shallow reasons. It is all the same. But the enemy leads you to believe that you ARE different. Special. But not in the way he would have you believe. Humbly see, I am not special, we all are special. And asking the ultimate question :

To be or not to be.

Seek your likeness. The differences will always be there.

In likeness is peace and communion. Oneness

These women spoke truths. And people do not like truth. They pretend they do but it truly is disruptive and they do not like it at all. And will seek to either make it fit into their idea of things or destroy it altogether. Mock it, spit on it, smash it to the ground, shooo it away like a bothersome bee whose sting they fear will expose what an inauthentic person they are.

These women did not stay quiet and therefore they had tragic ends. Is that what we are teaching the women of this world who are creative. Be quiet or we will shut you up for good. Yes, this is true of any person, man or woman who has the courage to share their blinding, seering truth. They pay a price. To be certain. Permeated with the death of prophets.

Better to pay the price to be true to oneself than to a society of destruction and distortion. Or to a partner who competes and steals from you core pieces of who you are and rapes them for all the world to see. For their fame. Until they use you up to be disposed of again.

Yet even when they do this, they cannot kill your spirit. Your presence for however long you were here. And I believe they live a certain hell upon trying. Damned are they who are like thieves in the night stealing a womans heart, her mind, her body. For she shall fly away and they are left with yet another casualty to hide in their jam packed, nasty yard filled with decomposing carnage. They shall smell it for all their days. And never again smell the fragrance of the unique flower who shined upon them for a season or two.

They shall never be as they were when she graced them and the world with her presence as they smashed, raped and pillaged her. Thinking she nothing but a place for their physical needs to be met. Denying that the womb is a house for a child of God. Using them, as if they were nothing more than a toilet to relieve themselves of there utter lack of dominion over themselves. Slave to their carnal bodies in every way.

No they shall never touch the real beauty of this world. As they are cowards. They respect not the power, elegance and grace the Lord has placed in these women. IT is their loss that all they could do was in vein try to empty out their infinite beauty into their small, broken and cracked cup.

Yet more of these women, these roses shall come. They shall blossom to their fullest. They shall soar to the highest of heights. For God has need and desire for them. His garden is clean and clear. His righteousness untouchable.

They shall be born and soar and rain onto the earth what is so desperately needed here. For this is a home of duality. Each is essential and required.

They live forever these women and there are more here on the planet even now, with many more to come. You can never kill them. In your arrogance and ignorance you only succeed at killing pieces of yourself. Slowly, painfully, a torture unlike any other. Created out your own greed, need and inability to truly sew a seed.

Seek God sweet powerful flowers. Past, present and future. He shall shepherd, plant and nurture you to your full, glorious epic purpose. It has been said before, but a beautiful roses needs its thorns to try to protect it from the thieves in the night.

There is only One salvation. Unconditional in its essence and pure to the core. Seek. Soar. And yes sweet beauty, on this planet you have the requirement to even roar. On this path you will mirror the people with level of being to look at you and adore.

Zelda Fitzgerald

My homage to Zelda

With Love

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