Spirit

He is her imagination.

He is her creative voice.

He is the paintbrush that she picks up everyday to paint the picture he has placed in her heart.

He is the wind she feels on her face when she is completely enjoying life.

He's there when she drinks her cup of coffee in the morning, and tucks her in at night.

He is her inspiration.

He inspires her dreams.

He is the Spirit within her.

new year

This is her year. No one can take it from her. 

She stepped with unusual boldness into the angry current of the river in front of her. Why this river was destined to cut across her path was unbeknown to her. The thought of swimming, let alone wading, in its raging waters terrified her, yet her pace remained steady. 

She seemed to possess something now that she didn't possess before. This element remained unidentified, but it was incredibly alive and active. Alive and active within her. 

It is a new year. There is no more looking back for her. The only thing there is now is crossing this river. 

And so she stepped even deeper into its cold, moving waters.