the sun doesn't shine brighter than the moon.

the moon doesn't glow brighter than the sun.

one hundred-eighty seven.

beautiful flower.

unraveling

quietly

before the

face of the

sun.

blossoming

even inside

the chill of the

wind,

beautiful flower.

sprouting

from beneath

the soil into

a clean, fresh,

and new flower.

all alone in a field

of space,

in the face

of the sun.

how can one

grow clean

from a pile

of unclean

dirt?

what is your source of growth?

where is your source of growth?

Who is your source of growth?

one hundred-eighty six.

at the break of don.

i felt his happiness

in the palm of my

ripened hands.

one hundred-eighty five.

illiteracy, towards the heart.

if my heart

were an open

notebook and

it were placed

before your

cloudy eyes,

you'd quickly

become illiterate

to the language

that the words

are written in it.

words of peace.

words of joy.

words of forgiveness.

words of growth.

words of strength.

words that never

left your behavior

to greet others.

you'd quickly

become illiterate

to the language

that the words

are written in

my hearts

open

notebook.

chariot, acoustic.

and then i begin to remember Love. all over again.

one hundred-eighty four.

don't ask if he's ok.

he'll nod yes

but his inner being wails no.

he'll smile happily

but his inner joy does not glow.

he'll leap across mountain tops.

behind doors, he'll dilapidate like a tower made of old steel.

he'll fall down as if he were to appeal.

he'll dress to appear as if he is put together.

when inside, he is divided internally.

and his eyes, this mans eyes, create an ocean of tears in the small of his eyes.

yet, he refuses to let them separate to create little streams of sorrow.

don't ask him if he's ok.

the day you do, this universe will flood in the eyes of a man

who danced around in this land

as if everything. was o. k.

morning level.

unexpectedly, a message dropped and vibrated

carefully in my inbox and sketched

a distinct smile across my

tiresome face.

this took my morning to
a level that was

created just

for me.

if i could, i would.

but i can't . so, in my slumber, both eyes remain . shut .

in an attempt to keep captive every image, and every vision

that the world will never be able. to see.

silent, but kept.

it's quite amazing . how an idea can be thought of, written down, but never expounded on. its silence and its incompleteness can be kept for weeks. maybe months. as far as a year. but our mind never loses grips with an idea that was thought. our mind never relinquishes the flavor of a subject that ignites inspiration to act on. something. i can recite piece after piece in my mind without having it written down. i can scribe a title without ever expounding on it. i can snap a photo of a figure and not sketch out the peace i felt in it. but once i feel led to express - no matter how long after - i can , i will , and i did. it's quite amazing.

• never let go of an idea.
• do not believe it will be lost.
• always come back to recover what was left to rest.

Life is becoming more beautiful to me as each day passes. Gods mercies are new, like the dew atop the blades of grass, each and every day. that's something to smile about.

one hundred-eighty three.

the sound of lonely.

she witnessed the sound of lonely last night.

it was in the neighboring room, through the

walls as thin as a birds feather fallen from its wing.

it sounded of a strong vibration, an earnest vibration.
brief and subtle pauses in between each, she could tell
the call was from someone who needed a good word.

but the recipient was unavailable - the recipient was
not present to present a word or to lend an ear of care.

the vibration remained lonely, in a hallow room filled with quiet.

she witnessed the sound of lonely last night.

it was in the neighboring room, through the

walls as thin as a birds feather fallen from its wing.

she closed her eyes in wonder, seeking to know

what it felt like to be unanswered - she picked up her phone,

typed gently the letters of his name, wearily pressed call

and was left in a blanket of a sound called lonely.

her call was heard through a wall as thin as a birds

feather fallen from its wing from a stranger - her call was never retrieved.

her wonder put herself to sleep.

one hundred-eighty two.

the personal arts.

there's a quiet that resides

in all of my work and if you
look, read, listen close enough,
you won't hear it.

sometimes, i don't even hear it.

but it's what makes my work, my work.

quietness is golden, is peace.

authenticity.

i was told to forget and to never remember. a face that once was so clear became so smeared to me. and it's not a bad thing. it's a good thing. it's a God thing. to refocus my focus on a presence so much greater. much realer. much clearer. i was taught not to care. and i don't. and i am in a vehicle. moving. gradually. quickly. slowly. vastly. authenticity. i'm receiving it now. thanks be to God - He went to sleep real, and He woke up realer. i have hope and peace in that. thanks be to God, it was not in you, or you.

• pray for a clear mind and heart.
• see others as Christ sees them.
• dig into the Word - there is treasure.
• think peace. think joy.
• breathe peace. breathe joy.

always remember, the Son shines brighter in your darkest days ... and nights.

my brother and me.

words will never ever be enough to express the gratitude i have for being the little sister to this big brother. i am overly overwhelmed to say thank You God for a brother like mine. he may never ever know the immense impact he has had in my life, but he has had one. really, i could not ask for another sibling because he has everything i would ever want in a brother. he and my mother are a major inspiration and motivation in my life. no one compares to them. no one ever will. i love you, brother. more than you will ever know. my heart beats a special tune each time i think of you, only for you. you are so special to me. i love you. thank you for being in my life the way that you have been - you just don't know. :)

one hundred-eighty one.

when the day called itself ok.

i've run out of ways to accurately
describe my day, to others.

to myself.

"it's been cool."
"it was graceful."
"it is pleasant."

my words can't roll off the
tip of my tongue, sleek enough to
give these days the credit they deserve.

or even

that they don't deserve.

my experiences throughout the day are
one with a ride on a roller coaster - so cliché.

i've raised my hands in the air out of excitement,

praising God for the climax of each day, during the day.

but as soon as i begin to coast, rolling slow to the end of it,

i am left alone, yet again, with thoughts that have picked up

kitchen knives and punctured me in the back.

but i smile. then i laugh. and i remember.

i cannot always have my way.

i realize that after the day calls itself ok,

i must take it and run - because i am ok.

i am healthy. still alive. i just wish i had

the proper words to give credit to a day that
should have never come.

and because i couldn't find the right words to
describe this day or that day, yesterday and today,

the day called itself

ok.

morgan osborne.

even with our differences present, love still radiates. it still transcends.
visit her here.

outdoor symphony.

the sound in this photo , i wish it were playing now. calming. soothing. freeing. the fountains played a symphony that made the dragonflies dance with the wind to the tunes of the drops beating the ripples of the already settled water. it was magnificent. and the way the sun reflected on the water, the way the Son reflects each one of us whether we acknowledge it or not, it remarkable. it amazing. we share love. we share grace. we share mercy. we share forgiveness. we share gentleness. we share joy. or at least we should. it's not easy. and i know the sun doesn't like burning the water . striking the water with its rays. i know the sun doesn't like that. but i know the Son would love us to reflect His light in the midst of a dank world. we got the long end of the stick.

we take for granted.

i wake up to a sound mind each and everyday. to ears that are able to hear. to a mouth that is immutable. to eyes that can see further and more clear than many. to eyes that can see. to a mouth that can speak. to ears that can listen. to hands that are mobile. to hands that can hold. to legs that are intact. to legs that can walk. to a mind that can think straight. all by the grace of God.

i can read. i am literate. i am able to articulate. i am in school. i have excelled to higher education. i am able to pick up a book and read it. i can sit inside of a classroom. i have computer access. i go to a school with a library that holds countless books. i have instructors that care. all by the grace of God.

i have a warm meal everyday. i drink clean water. i am able to eat and drink food to nourish my body. on a day to day basis. i am not starving. i am not malnourished. i am not drinking polluted water. all by the grace of God.

i sleep in a bed. in a private space. by myself. safely. with a comforter. with an additional blanket. with pillow on top of pillow on top of pillow. in comfort. protected. in a bed by myself. all by the grace of God.

i have so much to be thankful for, but i am not grateful enough to say thank you. when will contentment be the characteristic of undeserving human beings like me?

i take it all for granted - i'm completely dissatisfied. time for change. time for change.