I have written ten pieces, now eleven, since midnight.
10!
Pieces won’t stop tearing me, in pieces.
Pieces, of me, spilling out of me, everywhere.
They are coming from everywhere!!
Pouring from, my heart.
Careening from, my soul.
Gently caressing, my spirit.
Which pours them back into my heart.
Which gives them back, to my spirit.
Which restores my soul.
Which pours them from my spirit.
Which…
Ah, beloveds, pieces, my pieces, pieces of me, are being poured all over the wide world:
Through prayer.
Through thanksgiving.
Through giving thanks.
Through.
And through.
Thoroughly, both God and Life…
Are giving pieces of me.
To:
You.
Me.
Pieces which then, return back:
To God.
To Life.
To me.
Pieces which I then return back:
To God.
To Life.
To me.
To you.
Pieces of me.
I find them everywhere now.
They are everywhere!
I flavor everything with pieces of me:
My job.
My home.
My life.
My family.
My friends.
My enemies.
My community.
My world.
Liberally sprinkled.
Endlessly.
Senselessly.
Sensibly.
Ridiculously.
Lovingly.
Pieces.
Of.
Me.
Given.
Freely.
Free.
Of.
Fear.
Fearing?
Not!
Pieces.
My pieces.
MY pieces!
O, my!
I rejoice now.
I rejoice.
Now.
In:
Me.
All.
Of.
My.
Pieces.
Some pieces:
Scarred.
Broken.
Scared.
Shared.
Still.
STILL!
With:
God.
Life.
You.
Family.
Friends.
Enemies.
The world.
Pieces of me, are raining, everywhere.
They are everywhere!
Hallelujah.
Amen.
The end?
How could it be?
How can this be?
There be pieces of me…
Everywhere, I am finding…
Pieces of me.
in pieces,
Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe
Note: My heart just won’t stop writing. My sis calls them pieces. This pleases me as calling my writings pieces seems to give them a royal/regal status quite underserved feels like to me. How the heck can something regal/royal be pouring out of an old, decrepit, ridiculously ridiculous person called me?!…*gasp*
I tell God and Life They must have made a huge mistake trusting ME with such word fare. I make stupendously stupid fare, at times, with the fare They have entrusted me with. Just doesn’t seem quite fair, in my opinion, to keep inflicting me, my pieces, onto an unsuspecting world.
This world has NO idea how much dynamite one old, broken, free, oyster cracker can contain. You better ask somebody!
Pieces. Of me. Everywhere. Ah. Aha!
Where are your pieces? The world NEEDS your pieces. The world is starving without your pieces. Feed them. Pieces. Of. You. Begin. With. You…
- THE HAND FROM HEAVEN ✋🏾☁️🧻🤣
- COME SIT AT MY TABLE 🪑❤️🩹
- BELOVEDS, YOU CAN HAVE MY FLOWERS. I DON’T NEED THEM ANYMORE.
- Forgive them, Cassandra, God said to me
- Still In Love
Why Can't I Be Loud?! 