It seemed fitting to begin with purpose. This is why I write. This is why I continue to write. This is my poetic purpose.
To share life’s liturgies as paper prayers
To re-hem unraveled revelations – each unfolding an ode to Wonder
To remind that destined is not an end or hopeful someday, but a proceeding and prelude that requires all in every moment
To sow every question and tend in patience to the answers that may bloom
Hand pick them.
A fragile resistance
-A
to the belief that unknown bares naught
poems from a lioness 
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