Of Darkness & Light

Daphne

Writer, Meditation Instructor, Parent, and Free Thinker Sharing Her Gifts & Story www.ofdarknessandlight.net

  1. 2d ago

    On My New Chapter of The Archimedean and the State of My Personal Journey Through Homelessness

    On My New Chapter of The Archimedean and the State of My Personal Journey Through Homelessness we’re popping blueberries! The Archimedean: PrologueChapter OneChapter Two My Post on Facebook: To folks who I reached out to for help during my time of worsening disability, and more specifically those I lashed out at: I’m sorry for anything I’ve done that may have harmed your mental and emotional wellbeing. I’ve been on a path to recovery for some time now. I had a substance related psychosis from an extended period of trauma and blue lotus flower usage. It bred a delusional period where I was stuck in communications that were upside down, and the lack of help I was getting caused out-lashing towards silent spaces beyond my capacity to suppress them. I made accusations, assumptions, and was awful towards a lot of people in my path towards homelessness. It was harrowing, horrifying, and shameful. I’ve been on an earnest route to recovery since finding the right help in July. There are some of you who might understand our wounds go deep from how overtly mad I was in your direction. Despite the difficulty I can imagine there might be to break the silence, I encourage you to do so. I am doing well, I’m stable, and every chance to heal an emotional wound is one I will cherish. Right now I’m homeless, but sheltered, and on the path to being in a better place before long. Still, my emotional wounds from the fallout of that period of my life have left scars of sorrow that manifest negatively. To hear from family, old friends, or even people I reached out to for help whom I did not know would provide a great deal of positive benefit. I still struggle with talking to myself a fair bit and am very isolated. It would mean the most to heal with people, especially those who I miss a lot or feel the most sorry for having lashed out at. Thank you for your understanding, Daphne Get full access to Of Darkness & Light at www.ofdarknessandlight.net/subscribe

    On My New Chapter of The Archimedean and the State of My Personal Journey Through Homelessness
  2. Sep 4

    On Starting from Scratch: My Poetry Collection

    Earth; Body; Mother a poetry collection in progress By Daphne requiemchosen glories sold herto spirits fallenunwelcome, bemoaning fortunebut desperations knew,it was the playand for finding love's return blindersgrifters shrouded their beaksa well-worn insanitylapsing tricks, rigging malicetoo long had she misunderstoodforsaken: the signsher need to believe,and more for every lost week,in harrowers allthe rupturing wound's honoryearned for creation,of squalls justifiableto last until an end prayer (one)ocean homebecome me nowtake grasp of all I leftmake it real harmonyclouds joiningstoneworks of etherburn soulful coursesfree her,usinto the skyfinding love made freelywithin the forest she'll find me slow downsenses overwhelmcollisionher stillness was motionsustained perfection the remaking ever overundoing the woman,one late woven dreamof craft — a feelingand she understood;it was complete never yet wishing to speak—asking anewfailing, broken, but bellowed; of fearlessness and trustpatterns borne proved horrors boughtglimpses seen, the samedreams were heavens turned dreadful in wakingmen’s grace showered splendor on lies, it seemed;their secrets she believeddestruction for nothingthe dismay: illuminationand crouching ghouls huddled, taking,stealingher lot, made to furrows of the browit wasn’t their timenot yet chamberedthe woman’s furnace fired, knowing: she was still aliveenoughand so perhaps her heart would beat again livesto restto feelearned in a smilelosingdyingand forever againa oncean alwaysfor how she lived and again, and againscents of grace she earnedtoo pure and great, so manyroutes claimed ahead were deathsher own, but every other’s firstbelief made ruins to feelwhy not and how: who knew?someone must teach herit lives foreverthen tell me again ritesechoes laced bled her mindwanting, teethingof remembrancefiercest strength in barenessa touch — the tastesurrenderedclung to bindingstwists and knots inside, beneathwith prayers to loseshe won stolenrecords strewn by sorrow;fateful simplicitiescarved inches earning listless milesunbroken, she remainedwhile silence kept stealing,forgettingreborn of wonder and bleakness alikenow golden insidein allowance for othersher love was a theft harmonyclouds joiningstoneworks of etherburn soulful coursesfree her,usinto the skyfinding love made freelywithin the forest she'll find me slow downsenses overwhelmcollisionher stillness was motionsustained perfection the remaking ever overundoing the woman,one late woven dreamof craft — a feelingand she understood;it was complete never yet wishing to speak—asking anewfailing, broken, but bellowed; of fearlessness and trustpatterns borne proved horrors boughtglimpses seen, the samedreams were heavens turned dreadful in wakingmen’s grace showered splendor on lies, it seemed;their secrets she believeddestruction for nothingthe dismay: illuminationand crouching ghouls huddled, taking,stealingher lot, made to furrows of the browit wasn’t their timenot yet chamberedthe woman’s furnace fired, knowing: she was still aliveenoughand so perhaps her heart would beat again livesto restto feelearned in a smilelosingdyingand forever againa oncean alwaysfor how she lived and again, and againscents of grace she earnedtoo pure and great, so manyroutes claimed ahead were deathsher own, but every other’s firstbelief made ruins to feelwhy not and how: who knew?someone must teach herit lives foreverthen tell me again ritesechoes laced bled her mindwanting, teethingof remembrancefiercest strength in barenessa touch — the tastesurrenderedclung to bindingstwists and knots inside, beneathwith prayers to loseshe won stolenrecords strewn by sorrow;fateful simplicitiescarved inches earning listless milesunbroken, she remainedwhile silence kept stealing,forgettingreborn of wonder and bleakness alikenow golden insidein allowance for othersher love was a theft Get full access to Of Darkness & Light at www.ofdarknessandlight.net/subscribe

    On Starting from Scratch: My Poetry Collection

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Writer, Meditation Instructor, Parent, and Free Thinker Sharing Her Gifts & Story www.ofdarknessandlight.net

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