Babylone Zina

Such a beautiful song:

The Quiet Place Project

Creating space for a little bit of peace...

1. http://thequietplaceproject.com/thequietplace
2. http://thequietplaceproject.com/thethoughtsroom/
3. http://thequietplaceproject.com/90seconds

Silent Retreat

I look down and watch the glow of a candle cast upon the ether of my soul
Where reflections dance on the surface of a gently rippling pool
And a bellied sigh resonates within the hazy timbres of an empty nostalgia.

Drifting in this hollowed trunk of mine, a stillness remains thick with whispers of neglect
And a silent breeze trudges heavily, nestling deep in its cocoon of rest.

Collage

An Answered Prayer

Red-cheeked and swaddled in faith, she sat, biding her time
Waiting for a sign, for the lifting of the veil.
On the bench she remained, day after day, a peculiarity that became the norm
And still she waited in patience,
Waiting for God's hand to hold hers.

And He came, kind and true,
Holding up the world for her, cradling her in His arms.

She looked up as snowflakes fell on her face, laughing aloud in wonder
For He had given her the heavens, He gave her His love.
Her eyes curious and bright, she poked our her tongue
To taste God's kindness, His warmth in the cold,
The heavens shaked with His laughter, a gift to the world
To hide the damaged ground, to soften the hardened soil
Like a balm to a broken heart.
She ran in circles to gather all of God's caresses
To let it soak into her soul
Her eyes turned in gratitude to the skies, God had heard her cry

She was fearless
She was free

No Limits

I looked to the moon for an answer.

If man could make their mark so far above, walking beyond the clouds
Who am I not to reach for the stars

Breaking Free

She felt each breath bind her blood to her past, weaving a path within the cycle of regret in which she had drowned.
A captive within an hourglass, she was held in a frenzied momentum with the dervishes she had borne.
The slowly flooding room crept upon her gown, anchoring her to a dance she could not break.

As time filtered towards a stillness, the soul of her unborn child whispered in her dreams, speaking to her of a life she had not dared to believe.
With sand beneath her feet, soaked in the fire of her sins, she walked atop the river of disbelief.
Now rogue geared and no longer bound, she joined hands with the dance she would live to keep.

Snow Day

   

Tableaux

Every moment tapers to a pause, lingering within a mirage
Of a war fought with the brush of a scent, the whisper of a kiss
Each scene drawn out, heavy as it falls.

Painted glass sheds fractured light upon characters held in their tableaux
Unearthing the emotions dampened within the silhouette of their scripted pose
Rose-coloured framed, a beauty stilled in time.