writer

faith image

My Book – The Mystery

I am writing The Table of Contents for my book and I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing, it’s amazing. i have no idea what i'm doing space dog

Last night I wrote the first chapter title and 2 paragraphs on the subject.
I had a vision of it. I can see it. I’m not ‘writing’ it. I’m channelling it. I’m voicing it. I’m giving it life. It is very strange.

I got the name of the book a little while ago. I felt confronted by the name, the idea. It is a big topic and I felt fear with thoughts like, ‘what if I do it wrong?!’ and ‘I’m not good enough for that!’ as in, not professional enough, not experienced enough, not respected enough. However, it is not about that. It’s SO not about me. It’s about information. It’s about freedom. It’s about sharing. It’s about helping in the name of unity.

I feel like I’ve been ’employed’ by the divine. IT SOUNDS SO WEIRD haha but that is the only way I can think to describe how it feels. It’s like I’m the typist, I’m the vessel. Oh, that’s so dramatic too… but it is apt.

I want to share it. I want to write it out here, sort of. But it is to be birthed later. For now it is in a stage of creation. Like cells dividing and multiplying in the early stages of creating… It is a mystery that takes on it’s own direction. It’s own mission. It is on a role and I’m just ‘watching’. Holy crap. Man. Whoa.

This entry barely makes sense, I know. But… this is how it goes, apparently!

I suppose all I can do is have faith and trust in the power of what Source is yet to unfold.

(I realised something today. You are not a fraction of Source. You are A FRACTAL. You are the whole individuated into what appears as an extension but is truly expansion. It is horizontal, not vertical. It is duplication, not division. It is fractal in nature, all the way across.)

Easy Baby Maybe I’m a Liar

I wrecked myself again
Shipped to the shore

I see violet, blue and coral
I see shallows from time I borrowed
I see words sewn into me
Those that I held onto
Well they left me

– Rebecca Elizabeth Anne
___
See the flames inside my eyes
It burns so bright I wanna feel your love
Easy baby maybe I’m you’re a liar
But for tonight I wanna’ fall in love
Put your faith in my stomach

And for how long, I love, my lover
For how long I love my lover
And now, now, for how long, long I love my lover
Now, now, for how long, long I love my lover

– I’m A Mess by Ed Sheeran

sunflower image

Shine

i’m gonna shine back at you

what you fail to see through

black jackets, armoured coats

silent songs and secret notes

i will show it all

i wear my heart on my sleeve

and i do not have a map

i have watched them leave

and failed to get them back

but i’m gonna shine

with what is still mine

and i will break through

so you see too

i can’t help it

i think i was made to love

– Rebecca Elizabeth Anne

Twin Forks – Back to You

everything you ever wanted fear

What I Can’t Say

Here I stand
Braver than I ever can
Stand to be
There’s no way we
Should

But embers are burning deep
Tracing the heart that I can’t reach
And I feel like running away
All of the time
But part of me will stay
At the chance of –
What I can’t say

I’ve said I’ve fought flames before
But none have burned like this
I simply can’t afford
To put my armour down
Yet I am more
Sure
Of –
What I can’t say

3 days and nights afraid of the dark
But still running from the spark
How will I possibly get through this
When I can’t afford to miss
What I can’t say?

dark waves

Arrows in the Water

Alone in the water
We’ll drown tonight
Sorted with arrows
Pierced alive

I’ve walked over glass for the sound of someone else
The soft cracks trace along the bottom of my feet
Just for you to feel better than me

Walked through the ocean, scared of the rain
Yelling at nothing at all

Like yellow and sunset, orange gold amber
We walk through the dark, illuminated danger
Let us become okay with breathing in the carbon dioxide
And let us not expel that which divides

You’re torn in two
Ripped through
Walls are shattered in not much time at all
Cascading pieces of yourself left behind
Time is a fragile piece of missing life
Let us remember the first turn of the knife
The darkest night
For the darkest lives
Awake but not tortured
But we’re written in stone
Hopeful to expel that which
We do not wish to own
But chains are rigid, locked in the wrists
Weighing us to the bottom of the ocean tides

History’s page is turning the knife
Carving out all of your time

– Rebecca Elizabeth Anne

hope definition

Hoping on the Edge of A Cliff

I endeavour to become pure
Clear like snow
But I’ll never get there
If you don’t know

That I am here
Excruciatingly unsafe
Wearing war wounds
Showing them to the open air
Light shines through my hair
Makes it harder to bleed
As I blink in the bright

Wonder and wanderlust have never been mine
But this time I think I’ll try

– Rebecca Elizabeth Anne

Holding hope can make you more tired than every day put together…
But holding hope is who I am.

I always try to hold my thoughts within my own power. But they push and collide until I can’t hold on any more. They run away after childish and unrealistic hope, romantic notions and exhausting daydreams. But maybe that’s just my heart. And you shouldn’t fight your heart.

Hoping is something I struggle with accepting in me because it rips through all the walls I want to keep up that make me feel safe. It perseveres and it never gives up and it’s always there. And I guess it’s who I am. I’ll always hope and more than that, I/I’ll believe. And even I can’t tear it away from me. Even through all the tears I have ever cried, I’ve always just ended up finding myself in a sea of hope.

I want to become okay with my faith in life and my soul crushing/enlivening hope. I think hope requires you to face the cliff that hangs over the sea, standing in the wind with salt air stinging your eyes, and say, “I accept that there is danger here. There is risk. But here I’ll stand anyway.” And I’m so fucking scared of heights and danger. I touch it and it’s callous and cold like jagged rocks. But I still climb. And I end up hanging there on the end of the cliff, saying, “I’m here anyway.”

I’ll always be here. In the dangerous and unsafe hope.

feelings image

Sounds

How do I write these echoes
Of long lost love, and lust?
How do I identify
What I can’t bring myself to even try
To consider?

You have bled into my veins
You have opened clothes to make stains
Are you aware of the delicate sound
That I’ve never heard you make?

– Rebecca Elizabeth Anne

P.S.
Maybe I’ve made an error
But I’d rather admit it
Than say never

I’ll implode
If I never know you
I’ve always known you

You are music
To my heart

purple star

The Knowledge Keeper is Imploding

I feel like I am some kind of ‘knowledge keeper’. Like, I am just so full of information on metaphysics, the nature of consciousness, energy and all of that to the point where I am like, exploding – or rather imploding, because I’m not getting it out enough. I will start to write more articles. It is time. I realised (well actually, I consistently re-realise this because I forget because I get discouraged because I am human… but I think this time I got it) even if only like, 2 people read it – it is helping them and it is helping the collective (to receive spiritual or higher knowledge that they might otherwise be unaware of).

….To the keyboard!

art painting girl

Violet Light

“All we are is skin and bone, trained to get along…forever going with the flow, but you’re friction.” – TS

If I could quiet the busyness that walks these streets
I would take the jump, the heart’s final leap
And away
I would stay

Wished for far too long
When will the lights from the city nights come?
Drenched in rain, the light starts to separate
Maybe it’s not too late

Shadows are just marks left on walls
By the light’s touch
So let the barriers I have built fall

Risk of pain, risk of divide
Risk of the heart’s final suicide
But I say that every time
And I guess I end up fine

But the echoes are marks on my skin
And there’s marching against these walls
But I won’t let them in
I won’t face them

I tried to kill the love in me
But all I end up with is that same violet light

– Rebecca Elizabeth Anne