The Horse Among Blossoms

He walks where flowers hold the light,
a quiet strength wrapped in color.
Petals brush his darkened mane.
unafraid, as if they know him.

His steps are slow, deliberate
each one teaching the ground how to bloom.
Muscle and fragrance meet in harmony.
Power softened by grace.

The flowers answer to his presence
with a brighter opening,
their colors rising like breath
to greet his passing.

In the heart of the forest,
horse and blossom shine together
different kinds of beauty,
sharing the same sun.

Art by Serin Alar

The Turtle and the Butterflies

The turtle moves with the patience of stones.
Each step a memory pressed into the earth.
Morning light settles on her shell like a blessing.
while the world rushes past without waiting.

Butterflies gather where she rests.
Colors trembling in the air like soft questions.
They speak in wings and silence.
asking how one carries time without breaking.

She listens with eyes older than rivers.
answering not with words but with breath.
She tells them that slowness is a kind of love.
that every journey arrives when it is ready.

When the butterflies rise and drift away,
They leave warmth upon her ancient back.
The turtle continues on, carrying their colors within,
a quiet heart walking beneath an endless sky.

Art by Serin Alar

🖊Poem: Piahn

Keeper of the Hidden Fire

From the night’s woven garden
The Raccoon listens—
a small heart carrying a vast sky.
Stars cling to his fur like stories
that refused to fade.

He wears the old mask.
not to deceive,
but to remember who we are
when names fall away.
Between leaf and shadow
He learns the language of crossings.

His paws glow with patient symbols.
marks of making-do,
of finding medicine in what was broken.
Color hums around him—
every petal a witness,
Every spark a vow.

Raccoon laughs softly at fear.
turns locks with kindness,
opens doors that shame once guarded.
He teaches the sacred art of survival:
bend, adapt, become.

When the cosmos leans close,
He gathers fragments—
lost songs, misplaced courage—
and tucks them back into the body
where they belong.

If he stands before you,
Do not rush.
Breathe.
He is asking whether you will trust
the wild intelligence within,
the hidden fire that knows
How to make a life from night.

Video Sermon #kjv #kingjamesbible #bible #scriptures Pastor Bryan Denlinger - Answers In #Genesis Working With #Israel To Bring In The #Noahide System? #WakeUpAmerica - Pastor Bryan I found this video yesterday. Ken Ham clearly admits that they are working with the "Israeli Antiquity Authority". He then shows that they are building a new gate to block off traffic back to the "Ark", and that visitors will be required to pass through a "Rainbow" to reach Noah's Ark. I find this odd because the Noahide system believes in "7 laws", which are symbolized by the 7 colors of the rainbow. https://youtu.be/Hpt6Geoic0o?si=H0XHGnvCInQspjb2

How Artificial #Food Coloring Affects Children's #Behavior and #Health https://www.news-medical.net/health/How-Artificial-Food-Coloring-Affects-Children-Behavior-and-Health.aspx

Video - #Palantir & The Dangers It Presents Not Just To Americans But The World - Palantir Technologies Inc. is an American publicly traded company that develops #data integration, analysis, and intelligence #software platforms for government agencies, defense organizations, and commercial enterprises. Headquartered in #Denver, #Colorado; it was founded in 2003 by #PeterThiel, Stephen Cohen, Joe Lonsdale, Alex Karp, and Nathan Gettings. https://rumble.com/v734lnc-palantir-and-the-dangers-it-presents-not-just-to-americans-but-the-world.html

Sounds about right, pick a color...other wise you are only going to get ANOTHER PSYOP...

What Color
https://terrylclark.substack.com/p/what-color?publication_id=934525&post_id=152937915&isFreemail=false&r=1maoyr&triedRedirect=true

BY: Wendell Malone

Start your week off with a good laugh.

It Snowed Last Night..

8:00 am: I made a snowman.

8:10 - A feminist passed by and asked me why I didn't make a snowwoman.

8:15 - So, I made a snowwoman.

8:17 - My feminist neighbor complained about the snow woman's voluptuous chest saying it objectified snowwomen everywhere.

8:20 - The gay couple living nearby threw a hissy fit and moaned it could have been two snowmen instead.

8:22 - The transgender man.. woman...person asked why I didn't just make one snow person with detachable parts.

8:25 - The vegans at the end of the lane complained about the carrot nose, as veggies are food and not to decorate snow figures with.

8:28 - I was being called a racist because the snow couple is white.

8:30 - I used food coloring to make one of the snow couple a different color and be more racially inclusive.

8:37 - Accused of using blackface on the snowman... snowperson.

8:39 - The middle eastern gent across the road demanded the snow woman be covered up.

8:40 - The police arrived saying someone had been offended.

8:42 - The feminist neighbor complained again that the broomstick of the snow woman needed to be removed because it depicted women in a domestic role.

8:43 - The council equality officer arrived and threatened me with eviction.

8:45 - A TV news crew from ABC showed up. I was asked if I know the difference between snowmen and snowwomen? I replied "Snowballs" and am now called a sexist.

9:00 - I was on the news as a suspected terrorist, racist, homophobe, and sensibility offender, bent on stirring up trouble during difficult weather.

9:10 - I was asked if I have any accomplices. My children were taken by social services.

9:29 - Far-left protesters offended by everything marched down the street demanding that I be arrested.

9:45 - The boss called and fired me because of the negative association with work that had been all over social media.

10:00 - I cry into my drink because all I wanted to do was build a snowman...

Moral: There is no moral to this story. It is what this world has become because of a bunch of snowflakes.

Where the Sun Waits for Our Names

They stand at the edge of tomorrow,
not asking what comes next,
but listening for the echo
of a promise older than breath.

The water keeps their reflections.
The earth keeps their footsteps.
the flowers keep their stories —
each bloom a memory
that chose color over silence.

They do not speak of destiny.
for they know:
The future is not a path to follow.
but a seed to tend,
watered by gratitude,
rooted in lineage,
opened by song.

And when the sun lowers its voice
to the hush of evening,
it will find them still there—
four hearts, one heartbeat,
holding the world in place
the way love always has:
quietly,
together,
enough.

DOJ Launches Civil Rights Investigation Into Colorado Prison System — Including the Facility Where Political Prisoner Tina Peters Is Being Held
https://www.thegatewaypundit.com/2025/12/doj-launches-civil-rights-investigation-colorado-prison-system/?utm_source=newsletter&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=3383

VIDEO: EMERGENCY COLOR REVOLUTION COUP ALERT: Former Prosecutor & Deep State Investigator #Lionel Joins #AlexJones To Expose The Latest Developments In The Attempted #DeepState Operation To Trigger A #CivilWar & Bring Down America! https://madmaxworld.tv/watch?id=693777973b42c1841ea12a2f

The Star-Crowned Wanderer

The elders say
there are spirits who walk
between breath and starlight,
carrying the colors
our hearts forget to show.

They move softly,
teaching that strength
is not the roar of storms
but the quiet widening
of a world held in wonder—
a reminder that even the smallest step
can become a path of prayer.

Their lesson is simple:
live so your shadow grows kind,
So your voice makes room
for every trembling truth,
So your presence becomes
a lantern for those
still learning how to rise.

For when such a spirit
passes through your life,
You remember—
not all journeys are traveled,
Some are awakened.

Thank you, General Flynn

What is A Color Revolution?
https://genflynn.substack.com/p/what-is-a-color-revolution?publication_id=1407214&post_id=180321891&isFreemail=true&r=6v3c8d&triedRedirect=true&utm_source=substack&utm_medium=email

Riders Beneath the Moon

They ride beneath the silver moon,
hair streaming like rivers of night,
robes ablaze with the colors of earth
red as fire, blue as sky,
green as the spirit that never dies.

Their beauty is not a whisper,
but thunder rolling through the canyon,
a flame that no shadow can swallow.
Eyes unpainted yet burning bright,
hearts forged from the same stone
that mountains bow to.

They are strength wearing grace,
They are rivers that carve valleys,
They are wind that bends no knee.
Each step of their horses
shakes the ground awake,
each breath carries the memory
of ancestors who never surrendered.

Warriors, mothers, dreamers
they are the song of the land itself,
the eternal promise
that the earth remembers her daughters.

Serin Alar
🖊 Poem: Piahn

General Flynn Calls for President Trump to Warn the Nation of Another Deep State Color Revolution
https://joehoft.com/general-flynn-calls-for-president-trump-to-warn-the-nation-about-another-color-revolution/

#JohnPodesta Plan Crash Course: Learn Everything About The Left’s Open Strategy To Ignite A Color #Revolution & Drive #DonaldTrump From Office https://www.infowars.com/posts/podesta-plan-crash-course-learn-everything-about-the-lefts-open-strategy-to-ignite-a-color-revolution-drive-trump-from-office

#USAID’s International Color-Revolution Network Targeting the U.S. EXPOSED! https://www.infowars.com/posts/red-alert-usaids-international-color-revolution-network-targeting-the-u-s-exposed

Song That Stops the River

Her flute rose softly at first,
a ribbon of breath shaped into light
and the river, rushing with its ancient urgency,
paused mid-current,
turning its silver face toward her
as if time itself wished to listen.

The mountains stirred from their deep sleep.
stone bones humming with wonder.
They straightened their silhouettes
against the sky,
lifting their grand shoulders
to catch every wandering note
that drifted through the dusk.

Across the valley, blossoms awakened
petals trembling open
in colors the night had never seen.
Butterflies spun in circles of gold and blue.
drawn forward by the echo
that brushed their wings
like a warm, familiar hand.

And when her final note unfurled
into the quiet evening air,
The earth held its breath
for in that single song
She carried the memory of old spirits.
the heartbeat of the land,
and the power to make all creation
stop, listen,
and bloom.

Art by Serin Alar