I am not the poet who writes to be pretty 😍 I am the poet who writes to be free. My ink 🖋️ does not sit politely on paper, it reaches. It climbs out of me like a prayer that got tired of whispering. I have bled onto pages just to understand why my heart refused to stay quiet. Every line I write is a confession not of guilt, but of existence. I have loved in ways that cracked me open, desired in ways that made my body feel like scripture, and grieved in silence until my pen learned how to speak for me. Yes! I am soul-baring. Because I have nothing left to hide that heaven hasn’t already seen. And somewhere between my breaking and my becoming, I realized! God was reading every word I never said out loud. So now when I write. I don’t just write to be heard, I write to be understood above me. My ink stretches upward, letter by letter, like Jacob’s ladder 🪜 each stanza a step closer to something divine. And my heart, 💜 oh, my heart sings differently. Not loud, not for applause, 👏 but like a quiet hymn only the heavens fully recognize. It hums through my ribs, through my breath, through the spaces where I almost gave up. It reminds me “You are still chosen, even in your unraveling.” So when my ink meets my song that is not just poetry. That is alignment. That is spirit and flesh finally agreeing to tell the same truth. That is me no longer writing from pain alone, but from purpose. No longer asking for validation, but stepping into revelation. And maybe 🤔 just maybe 🤔 every poem I write is not me reaching people’s it’s me reaching heaven, and realizing heaven has been reaching back this whole time. (C) 06.07.2026

(Activity) Inner Weather Check (Exercise) Name your current internal climate using weather language. One phrase or term only. No explanation. __________ Here’s My Offering (Example): Atmospheric conditions: tired beyond sleep, craving restoration. #SouthernSeoulSpeaks #Tresduravia #SeoulScribez

Today centers contact around…Rebuilding After life has knocked you down how do you pick yourself back up and rebuild? A small trace. A mark left without explanation. What you offer can be brief. A line. An image. An acknowledgment. Leave it where attention happened to land. Here's my offering: Having a strong support system has been instrumental in bringing me back from a hardship or set back. I am currently in the process of rebuilding, but before I got to this point I gave myself grace, allowed myself to go through the emotions . I cried about it then I write about it. Now i'm taking life by the reigns and forging my own path forward. Family, Faith, and Freedom of Expression