"𝑀𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑡,"  ℎ𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝑒𝑎𝑟. "𝑀𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑡."

“My will is to live!” I shouted from the mountaintop, naked in the storm, rain hammering down, thunder shaking the air, lightning striking all around me. “My sincere will is to live! Yet my life is, as always, in Your hands!”

♡ At the dawn of a new Life Light appears It’s born from Darkness The old giving way to the new

What is life truly about?

An autumn's healing poem for soul and psyche.

Poetic prose. A tender seaside moment between mother and child unfolds into a quiet lesson on our inner voice and connection — a lyrical reflection on the unseen bonds that unite us with nature and one another.

Sitting on a bench behind the summer house I carefully opened the bag I had placed the bird’s body in. There he was, that poor little thing. For a split second, I remembered how I almost had to peel what was left of him off the car, his little heart sticking out very noticeably. I thought for a moment whether I should keep his heart, accept it as a sacred gift. But no. It felt right to bury it with the remains of his body. But I kept his wing. His left wing, which had ...