Dear relentless love,
Look at what you made me do; I’m a pretty unfiltered fool for you. Through the epic ups and downs, through the tides that came with the deathly storms that rose high above the clouds, through the countless moments that got broad smiles converted from vivid frowns, I was made from you; I was made for you; I was made to maneuver through you and to watch you rise me high up and above. I am worthy of unconditional love.

So, in the unshaken quietness of my own proclaimed sanity, of peaceful stillness and courageous fearlessness, I exist, carried by the messy rampage of mixed thoughts and emotions that have surged through me from the dawn of time—never could I resist. In unison with my decreed healing soul and my repairing heart, I surrendered, and I found my new and precious release. I am deserving of boundless peace.

Now riches follow me wherever I go and in whatever I do, like a clingy peasant after a renowned queen, being seen for her royal highness, her radiance of beastly extravagance and glowing serenity. My divine wealth purges through my heart and my soul and the palms of my delicate hands—no debt and no amends, just pure and valuable virtues of substance. I am in alignment with an infinite flow of abundance.

Sometimes, I stop, I pause, and I force my mind to recall the ample number of ailments that I’ve surpassed in this lifetime. Then, through the unpopular paradox of surrender—yet the most priceless principle to remember—I’ve quantum leapt into an opposite reality of excellent health during the eleventh hour, a gracious memory so prime. And I sang a melodious song of endless praise and thanksgiving one night, consumed by this unfamiliar but magical wave of gratitude that I’m alive and I’m singing. I rise into overall well-being.

So there you have it—that I, the most tremendous goddess you have ever seen, racing tirelessly towards her desires, ever so keen, dreams fulfilled, passions finally unconcealed. Towards my scarred yet anchored chest, there I lean. I, this gorgeous creature distinctively created by God, smothered with poise and an erotic aura to die for, utterly sophisticated with a luring presence that’s unceasingly seductive. I am beautiful, powerful, and creative.

By Erica Molefi

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The Awakened: A Call To Those Who Resonate

Was it a crime that we chose the godly route?

Was it a crime that we decided to learn the godly way?

Was it a crime we submitted to spiritual authority?

Was it a crime we were willing to learn?

There were numerous alternatives. Yet, we chose this path. Willingly!

We still questioned whether our choice was right, as it looked like alternatives already.

Who dares question authority? Threats to lay curses when you do! Sigh! I digress!

I asked. Is Christianity slavery? Is Spirituality bondage?

Was it not meant to make destinies, truncates destinies?

Was it not meant to make us bloom?, we met our doom!

Gosh! I digress!

Every day for the thief. One day for the owner.

We can’t stay silent forever.

WE ARE AWAKENED!

And to those we ran to for rescue, that became our worst nightmare. Worse than those we flee.

Plenty things they sum up for this gospel! If this is what your gospel teaches. Then, I’m out. Scratch that. I’ve been out for a long time.

Not religion. Not doctrine. Not denomination. But GOD!

If you want to serve God, serve God. If no alternative, you do. Focus. No they confuse us! Enough of the facades!

GOSH! WE ARE AWAKENED!

#TheAwakened by Oluwa Gbemisola

Brand With Gbemi || Professional Brand Strategist (@real_oluwagbemisola) • Instagram photos and videos

(20+) Facebook

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“Words unsaid, scenes unfold, secrets untold, in his eyes we behold”.

Partner in crime, you made me.
What a beautiful way to frame it.
With me on the cover page,
In a newspaper? In this time and age?

What use is information written on paper?
Till you went on and made it public!

Now the streets know my name,
I’m on everyone’s lips,
How could a newspaper spread feed go more viral than an Instagram post?

Been caught in an act that you directed,
Only so I can take the fall, pay for the crime,
While you taught the glory of having found me!

One day, your cup shall run over, just like mine did.
Spilling over with the same content you filled mine with.

A parasite’s delicacy, red and beaming, carrying strands of innocence in the
bloodstreams, the very thing you feed on.

I won’t be available then to put on display.
Because you already have me caged in an undersized frame.
You’d make a good model for advertising the precise meaning of

CONDESCENSION.

By: Jessica Nsude

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