Wow, I can't believe it's been 2 years since I started this writing/poem about reaching a place of own. Just added a finishing statement; but, who knows, it might continue. Here it is...
I have reached a place
of own.
I own my
joy. The world didn't give it to me and the world can't take it way; and
with joy, comes peace. I own my peace.
I own my happiness - I
am very thankful for all that I have. No matter how meager, I am
content, therefore, I do not covet or envy what someone else has.
I own my space and my
right to (be) where ever I find myself. I own a part of this world-
as I sojourn through, occupying until I am retrieved.
I own my uniqueness-
my funky decor style and taste in furnishings that don't match, but are esthetically
soothing and comfortable. I own my taste and style of clothing that is
mostly classic, out dated or trendless, but, nevertheless, attractive and
purpose serving.
I own my personality
type and right to be who I am - loving the skin I'm in and knowing that someone
having a problem with me is not my problem, but, theirs.
I own my goals, hopes,
dreams, and accomplishments, but, realize that without God, I can do nothing.
I own my creations
from my imaginations, my infatuations, and anticipations of situations that
prompt conversations that lead to speculation and hopefully appreciation of individualizations
of opinions without negative orientations, but, feed on optimizations to
improve people relations and communications of love and positive palpitations
that help to relief sensations of constipation to do away with mental
mutations; allowing energy to flow, that creates circulation of good
vibrations. Not owning a state of negative deviations rather owning my
salvation, a gift without retaliations; guarding my fort against pollutions
that causes friction in addition to stagnation and lack of concentration.
I own my red lipstick and high heel shoes with a disposition of aversion to
dissatisfaction with my celebration of qualifications to follow my own
directions and taking a vacation from the norm when I need respiration from crazy
folk.
