What in me is not a story?
What is the purest form of me?
Do I have even a form?
If so, what is the form that constitutes me?
Has this form not changed my whole life?
What is more me: the way I am now?
Or the way I was ten years ago?
Or the way I will be in ten years?
What is the truth of me?
Is it in my skin, my sex, my age?
How can I even identify with something as
abstract and changing as age?
Do I allow my body to define me?
Do I give any importance to how others define me?
Do I need to wait for others to see me as I am
before I can be what I am?
Am I dependent on others to be what I truly am?
No matter the circumstances, wasn’t my conception
in itself absolutely free?
Was I not born in freedom?
When did that freedom end?
Did it end?
Where is it now?
How is it now?
Am I not free from every story, every definition?
A new morning. A new day. Never seen before. Never seen again.
Charlotte Brady about love, life, freedom and abiding in the heart every moment of the day. This is where flesh is spirit and spirit flesh in raw unadulterated devotion. Life is worship!
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