senior Scoops

It begins, as all things do, with a word.

From a place within us, yet beyond our reasoning.

A word spoken not once, but again and again. Whispered in prayer, contemplated in silence, scribbled into the margins of books.

Thus etched on the soul.

In that echo, the world takes shape. A breath into syllables, a heartbeat into verse.

Within every fleeting thought lies the seeds of becoming.

So too, our stories are forged — not in grand gestures, but in the quiet power of a single, uttered word, that finds its way from lips to soul.

And so bends the arc of fate toward being.

This is a compliment to my stories on Emile Coue’ and Neville Goddard