She is Perfect

She is perfect.
She is human.
She is an African Queen.
Do not look for perfection in her. Perfection is her.
She is an African Wombman.

(Inspired by all African Women).

She is Perfect

She is perfect.
She is human.
She is an African Queen.
Do not look for perfection in her. Perfection is her.
She is an African Wombman.
(Inspired by all African Women).

Re: Who Has No Fears?

(The Amalgam of Our Consciousness: Part 2)

Who has no fears?
Who has no dead-ends?
Living means going on even in our fears. Not to fear even when you are in the middle of your nightmare. The aim of fear is to make you not act, to cripple  you, to make you not attempt the semblance of impossibility.

In the middle of our nightmare(s), ability to trust our instict and act without hesitation, and above all, to be conscious of our thoughts and actions.....this is our strength. This is our hegira. To go on even in the face of an uncertain future. The aim should be to define and create our reality.

Our Hegira* Against an Addiction

There is something with all addictions, (I think). They have this hold on the victim, the power to make someone continue with it even when you know it is wrong to do it. The power that makes you say I will do it "just for this last time", we never see the last time. One still ends up in the same undesirable situation. Human weakness.

We fall for the trap because of the thought of that temporary joy we get from doing the additive act. This is done even when you know you are not suppose to be doing what you are doing. Willing to avoid it, but not using the power you have to do what must be done.

It takes extraordinary courage to fight all addictions. Even when it seems easy for some people to overcome addictions.

Our failure to do what must be done now to overcome our addiction(s) should not discourage us to work on our resolve to overcome.  All purity sterms from the act of eliminating what is not meant to be 
---------------
*I became aware of this term "hagira" recently in my quest for more wisdom.  A term which refers to a "journey especially when undertaken to escape from a dangerous or undesirable situation". (Merriam-Webster Dictionary).
The term stems from the flight of Muhammad from the ancient city of Micca in A.D. 622. It is a Medieval Latin term. It may also come from the Arabic word "hijra", which when simply put, may mean; departure.

Seasons of Our Thoughts

Search for me in the stars and the moon, you will find me.     
For I can see you in the moon.
I can see you in the dark sky.
I can see you in the stars.
Search for me in the oceans.
I search and find you.
For I search enough.

Nights spent awake, with our spirits connected in thought.    
Scarred to fully articulate them.  
For fear of being a burden.   
Why do I protect you?
Why should I not protect you?

I fear my conversations with my self
In moments of myself.
The nights are a season of thoughts.
Seasons of joy.
Seasons of fear.                      
Seasons of what to hope for.
Seasons of seasoned prisons.

What do You Do?

What do you do?
When you miss someone.
Someone special you cannot be with.
When you miss the warmth of their skin.
When you miss to see the ambience of their smile.
When you miss the presence of their silence.
When you miss the feel of the touch of their skin.
When you know you cannot be with them now.   

What do you do?
When you know your sleepless night will not bring you the one?
When you know the sun will rise and set without them?             

What do you do?
When you know they also miss your presence.

The Amalgam of Our Consciousness

(Lamentations of a son of Ovandu)

In our silence, the voice of reason is a cause for concern for the troubled spirit.

In the mist of your effort to reject pain and unpleasantness, there is the reality of one's reality.

In one's rejection of unpleasant realities, reality stares one in the face.

In our quest for happiness, whatever effort not genuine to one-self leads to the true reality of our situation when we stop to rest.

In the reality of our reality, what matters is our resilient effort to never give up.

In the amalgam of our consciousness, our joy is temporary.

In the solitude of our drink of supression, repulsion of our reality is anathema.

In our state of misery of solitude, our abilities are derate.

In the the over indulgence of self-pity, our reality is credence.....