My angel wings put up a minute and halo hung to dry out from all the tears I’ve spent waiting for this kind of love to meet me halfway.
Mirrorwork of memory and meaning, writing that turns inward toward light.
My angel wings put up a minute and halo hung to dry out from all the tears I’ve spent waiting for this kind of love to meet me halfway.
He keeps me, meets me on the other side of pleasure and pain, loving every small gain of my heart.
Heat—flame starts between my shoulder blades, spreading into wings that cinder and spark. The bell of my soul rings, awake.
He meets me where I’m at, reminds me He’s my God through love, not dominance.
The shape of the land, scooped out—trenched by water. I imitate this trickling down my throat, cleansing my insides, preparing for deep winter nights and mornings quiet.
I no longer fear judgment down here; I’ve learned to embrace myself whole— in acceptance, not rejection.
He breaks me gently so I open, coaxing me forward without force.
I practice Your name in my mouth—my heart ajar, You whisper through it, setting me gently ablaze.
I blow out the match— I’d kept, in case I needed to forget everything.
A meditative piano journey for gentle internal noticing , reflection, renewal, and the quiet work of becoming whole.