Poking. Prodding. Pushing.

Covered by a thick coat. Of voices.

Once the tangible voices of people, people who ingrained their opinions in you. And you hear their voices as your own. No distinction. Yet another piece of you smeared over. Concealed. Wrapped in packaging that people found more acceptable. Less blinding.

And yet you sit. And peel through the layers. Through pain. Through tears. Through self-deprecating laughter.

And it pours from you. In a steady stream of letters.

And you see there is light. In crevasses where paragraphs once lay. And the images you were avoiding are on full display. They cannot be avoided. You can avert your gaze but they will still be visible. You can scream and beg and whimper. But it’s no use.

For the film has been peeled back. And so you set these images free. It is all you can do. You cannot hold them. You cannot fear them any longer. From the deepest hollows and the darkest valleys stories jump onto pages and scramble, and meander. Some join together, some remain single entities. Empowered. Emboldened. Speaking their truth.

You lay vulnerable. Bare. Naked for all to see. For all to scrutinise.

And people are shocked. For the light has forced their packaging open too. But they are not ready to see it.

So they try to push it away. By pushing you away too. You are tempted to get new packaging. And wrap it so tightly around you that the light will never be allowed to shine again. Yet you must let it. For you let the stories go. And they no longer fit into the wide gaping valleys the light has formed.

 So you follow it. Wherever it flows. And let it bore holes in other peoples packaging. So that they too can let it shine.


The Ominous Clock

I cannot be measured, I cannot be disposed,

I keep all things orderly and composed.

My hands move as each event unravels,

I dictate where life travels.

Worshiped by all of human kind,

I control your wandering mind.

Presence is a concept for the fortunate few,

Without me what would you do?

Worthless and hated you would shrivel away,

And that my dear friend is why I must stay.

Without you I would dance in the suns radiant beams,

Without you I would fulfil my wildest dreams.

Time would crumble and fears would shatter,

All would be, and what is would matter.

Smiles would crease upon worn faces,

Warmth would be felt in tender embraces.

Life would just happen without hesitation,

No need for fear, anger or frustration.

Wrinkled hands, tired eyes.

A chuckle escapes me as I realise.

Time never existed, only in my mind,

Life just happens and is left behind.

Worry is futile and regret is pain,

And worshiping time has made me insane.


The Big launch.

Wow. I am finally doing this. Finally putting pen to paper. Or fingers to keypad even. I am here because I want to share my voice. I want to write pieces that captivate your attention, make you feel your own voice and let your own light shine too.

Through writing we bring light to things that have never been seen or explored before. We bring light to parts of ourselves we never knew existed. We heal, we learn, we grow, we connect.

I want to share my words with you so that they can shine, and in turn inspire you to let your own stories be set free.

I adore reading and can truly say that there are authors who have shaped who I am today. Who have challenged me, inspired me, connected with me. Who have made me feel heard and seen and connected. We all have a voice, we are all the authors of our lives and our words are our most powerful tool.