Seven & a Half BY 9

Continue, In Doubt

Entry Eight – 2023 Creativity Project

I am uncertain that this Creativity Project will survive. I am having difficulty convincing myself to do it already, and the year is young.

Part of this is that I am having problems keeping myself engaged in reality. I have a lot on my mind that I feel disinclined to share.

I am usually transparent in my Creativity Projects, but this is becoming near impossible.

I put a lot of pressure on myself when I commit to these. The fact that I feel I am creating in a vacuum does not help me. No one is commenting, few likes occur, and my stats show that there a so few visitors it is almost depressing.

I do not have a journal entry today. I went for a long walk outside this evening; I tried to straighten myself out. I had no success.

I have taken no photographs today and done no art. So much of my content is missing. I am writing at the last possible moment because I still feel a commitment.

I am grateful:

1. My best friend called today.
2. My night vision is still incredibly intact.
3. I had a baked potato.

Prompt: Permit yourself to be completely real and create from there.

Thanks for visiting. Take care. God Bless.

Always & Ever,
Jo Ann

Live LOVE!

Beginning Maybe

It is yesterday’s news, but you might read it some distant tomorrow, never knowing the when of it all. It fell apart again, but no one knew the signs; they were too busy in their lives of satisfactory rhyme.

The dregs in the pot that provided the coffee could perhaps illuminate, but by then, it was probably too late. Broken hearts litter the ground where discordant words often find their sound.

A whisper of waking to the morning linen gives hope, but the bed contains only one body, insufficient for an incident of joy.

Tomorrow is the predicate of yesterday, but today wends away. Fortune is no lasting friend but slips off with a passing wind. One seldom remembers but never forgets a love vanishing to purchase what survives beyond regret.

Familiar, those bonds forged over a bundle of years breaking down into stifled tears disallowed to tumble from wary eyes. No one left to ensure feeling together thrives.

Storm

I am not who I might be if life were a different reality. I walk between this and that, here and there, time and forever. I get lost because there is never enough of my giving to soothe the souls I disturb. I would love, Love, love, but am a nuisance, a bygone heart ripped apart. Whoever, I am meant to be is twisted and confused within me and without any security. So, blame, blame the rain that falls October from these troubled eyes. An Agent of Spiraling Chaos, may be the truth , there, though I cannot see, thinking Haphazard Creative more truly me.

I am hoping and hiding, an original, tortured by rank facsimiles. No, no, you misread my disposition candidly.

Acclaim

God heals, holds, enfolds
Us in His Love unending
We are His children,
Bought, the price, Christ’s sacrifice,
Jesus is forever for us.
Gifts: mercy, grace, Love
Always accruing to us
We are blessed children,
Each one precious to Jesus
Souls, hearts, sealed by His Spirit.

PROMPT: If you are inclined, create something outside or inside the storm. Choose your comfort or discomfort and away.

Gratitude: Being whatever it is, I come to be, wherever I am placed, as will be. Blessings eternal.