Who is this?
Who is she?
Wo are you, I ask?
This me.
Staring back at me.
She is old now.
Was she ever young?
Who are you, I ask?
Who AM I, she wonders back.
Who am I, I wonder?
As I blunder.
Making my way.
MY way.
Through this vast thing called life.
There are days I know.
Other days, I know not.
I know not what, or who, or why, or how this me came to be.
Who is this me that I see staring back at me?
God knows.
He’s not tellin’. Says that I have to figure me out.
Crap.
figuring me out,
Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe
Note: Words woke me up. They always do. Hurry, they said. Hurry! I hurried. The only problem, beloveds, is I rarely, if ever, know what they are going to say.
This is what came into being. This. These words. Yet, another iteration of…me.
Who is this me that I see staring back at me?
Ah.
Aha!
Keep allowing your dreams to wake you up. Demanding. Asking. Showing you…YOU!
One step.
One step.
One step.
You are loved.
You are NOT alone.
Keep on being…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?! 