Looked for an half hour Sour like I cant speak sound doctrine Pen came back with its nose running Scratched my symphony off the label Told me that it was violent Thought that a revolutionary word would jump the fence Gabe me a restricted that made no sense "Don't make em mad by what you spit " I said "Shiiiiddddd I aint scared not one bit" Canceled my evening shift Put tape around the pen cause it was a little bent Put a explicit sticker right next to the clicker Talking about he had a brand new editor December bout to get that tail whipping Acting all snoodie I will.just get a new one then Threw that pen in the trash quick... ©️thelyricalexodus

🧩 AFTERWORD Inklogic (n.) The internal logic of written pain. 🖋️ SOULPRINT Grief arranges its own architecture. Every line rearranges what memory attempts. Ink follows the pathways created by feeling, shaping a script that understands without mercy, recording the places where language once faltered and now refuses to scatter. ✨ CLARITY SHARD Meaning gathers in the margins. Emotion learns its structure through the way you write it. Each sentence becomes a lantern for what your history still names. 🧠 REMEMORY Recall a moment when writing revealed the truth before you dared to name it. Describe how the realization moved through you and altered the room around your understanding. 🪶 SEAL I trust the wisdom inside every word I survive.

Your First Signal Prompt 5: Name the earliest trace of yourself that still lives in you Every cycle circles home. This week, return to the origin-point; the spark that existed before language, before ritual, before the world shaped a name around you. Some beginnings rise like heat. Some arrive as a color that followed you for years. Some settle in the body as a quiet force that shapes every choice you make long after childhood left the room. This is the week of retrieval. Here’s your map. ✳️ Orbitals Choose one or let several converge: - A sensation from early life that never drifted. - A gesture you repeated long before you understood it. - A memory that kept its grip through every season. - An instinct that called you forward again and again. - A color, soundless motion, or fleeting image that always felt like source. These are your origin-markers. 🌿 Sensory Anchor Close your eyes. Call forward the earliest version of yourself you can still sense. Let the memory rise through your body one layer at a time; heat gathering at a point, a tightening that knows its own story, a flicker that moves from stillness into shape. Whatever sensation arrives first becomes your signal. Describe that sensation as motion, texture, or direction. Begin writing from there. ☄️ Comet Path Write an origin piece. Trace the line from early self to present self as movement through time, as instinct turning into pattern, as memory growing its own structure. Let each line shift a little deeper than the last. Let the piece unfold the way growth unfolds; steady, layered, shaped by something older than intention. When the recognition settles, place your seal. ✴️ Seal of Enoughness My beginning still shapes the direction I rise toward. 🪞Sharing Your Constellation Your ritual completes its arc in three lights: Core Star → Comet Path → Seal of Enoughness. Tag it with #ConstellationsOfEnough for the Archivists tracing this final turning of the cycle. 🌠 Sky Report Feature

I need to love me When the world seems dark When the light is turned off and silence is my God I will chart a path of love to my heart Journeying When all seems lost I will find it Tonight I am reminded that it exists Somewhere on the Universe of my lips Waiting to begin this trip of happiness Not from loved ones or external forces I need to love me Of course it's easier said than done So I come to this place of realization Visualizing me Happy Dancing with glee Free on a Caribbean beach Drink in hand Feet in burning sand and steps of promise Positive That mirror work pays off I will take no days off loving me eternally So urgently, My heart begins to melt as December helps. It gives me a clipboard to rate self. Right now I'm a seven. I used to be a five. That's growth! I call it gains of pride. I aim for the sky. Hit then come to grips with the star inside. Actively learning to trust me. But first I need to love me.

So after this amazing, productive holiday — I’m finally all caught up with checking out what y’all have been doing over here! How’s everyone else doing? 💙