You are not alone


You are not alone,
You are never alone,
you have never been alone.

I can see you standing on that hill top,
Battered around by the wind,
Desperately seeking a soul in this vast landscape.

Your eyes are searching earnestly for someone to share this view,
To see with you this fearsome cavern below,
To help you find a way off of this unstable rock,
So precariously positioned so high.

You think you are alone,
You think you are always alone,
You think you have always been alone.

That cavern that faced you need not be fearsome,
In fact it is something entirely different.
That rock that you are standing upon is steadfast and strong.
You may not see me with you,
But you can feel my breath upon your face.

I am with you,
I am always with you,
I have always been with you.

Oh, that you could see what I see.
That you are nestled securely in the palm of my hand.
That that cavern you see is actually,
A scar that show just how much I love you.
That everyday that wind upon your face,
Is me, breathing my love over you.

You are not alone,
You are never alone,
You have never been alone.

I embrace you with my love,
Every second of every day,
Fovever and ever and ever!

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Disecting a Rainbow


There is a pot,
Somewhere near the end,
Wherever that my be.
Peer through the murk
And you might just catch a glimpse.

A chink of light,
Whispering in the grey
That something good is around.
Obscured by cloud,
Somewhere in the farthest reaches.

And try as you might,
In the grey,
It’s hard to believe that there’s light.

Except for a sliver,
Hardly visible by my eye,
But the warmth can be felt.
And when the darkness parts,
Up ahead, for a second, I see it!

Like tissue paper
Hanging in the wind,
Delicate yet surviving the storm.
Translucent colours
Threaded across an agry sky.

Any try as it might,
The darkness
Must always give way to the light.

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Under the sea


I love the sea but on a recent visit to Toronto’s aquarium, I developed a new appreciation for the beauty and variety…

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Wooden blocks


Wooden blocks are one of my favourite items to make, although very time-consuming. I love finding great combinations of vintage papers and neutral paints – each block is truly unique.

Visit my Folksy shop for more information: https://beta.folksy.com/shops/rainingviolet

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What will the Next Chapter Hold?


There is a dream, planted inside my heart, planted there by the world’s best gardener. In his mind is the perfect plan, every tree, every flowerbed, even every individual flower. And I just see a glimpse of it now, a trailing rose, a beautiful silver birch and some marigolds – but he sees it all, living and breathing, the way it sways, in the wind and sings in the morning. It’s already flourishing, the first shoots appearing many springs ago. The smell of the first blossoms and the whistle in the breeze have captured my heart, my soul, my all. There is more to come; tasting the first harvest, sweet and soft, watching the dance in the flowerbeds and listening to the song of the trees.

There is a vision, painted inside my heart, painted by the world’s greatest artist. Each colour, some vivid, some soft, each brush stroke, each shadow tells a story of it’s own. I only see part of it, a corner or perhaps a side and a few colours – I see the simple parts but he sees every fine detail: the shadows, the highlights, the texture, he sees it all. But even that small glimpse of colour, which I see now, inspires me, there is so much more to see.

There is a destiny, written on my heart, written by the bestselling author of all time. From the beginning of time he was inspired to write. Each poem, each prose, each thought contains a depth, an inspiration. I can only read part of it, it’s too immense to read all at once. The paragraphs and stanzas I have read have so often left me speechless, breathless.

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London – Discovery of pretty things


I had a great work trip to London this week and as part of it we went visiting some pretty stores to seek inspiration.

My colleagues couldn’t believe that I had never been into the Liberty, and when I got to the front of the building – neither could I!

Here are some pictures from my journey of discovery…ImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImageImage

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Chasing the Horizon


There’s a small, quiet lake,
Hidden in a valley,
And there you learn to swim.
The water is sweet and calm,
A soft breeze is blowing,
And there, sheltered by the mountains,
Is rest from the storm outside.

Over those mountains there’s another lake,
Bigger and not quite so calm.
It’s deeper there, and colder.
There are patches of icy water,
It’s harder to swim there.
There, is where your body strengthen,
You start to work there.

But there comes a day,
When the waves breaking on the shore
Call your name,
And you have to follow your call.

There’s a large, deep-blue sea,
And it’s there you to need to go.
You see it’s the great challenge,
You’ll be put to the test against
Waves, under currents, sharks.
The water doesn’t taste so good there.
The unpredictable sea beckons you.

Here comes the day,
When the waves breaking on the shore
Call you name,
And you swim and swim,
As it calls your name.
Chasing the horizon.

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Hope Springs


A speck,
So small that you can hardly perceive it.
Not sure how it arrived there,
In the depths.

It grows,
Multiplies every day that it is watered.
Was it planted a long time ago,
Or yesterday?

Earth is pushed aside,
Making room for new growth.
Warmth seeps down,
Unfurling layers of new life.

Shoots,
Feeling their way to an unknown source of fuel.
Why was it placed exactly here,
In this spot?

Roots,
Weaving their way in between rocks to seek sustenance.
There is an everlasting stream here,
Deep underground.

Something breaks the surface,
Peeps through the rocky ground.
A sliver of green,
To brighten a barren land.

Cracks,
Appearing through the dry ground, as shoots emerge into light.
Each shot of green that breaks the surface,
Breathes the air.

Growth,
With each passing of the sun and drop of refreshing rain.
Where hard ground had once been,
There is life.

What will this thing grow into?
As splashes of yellow start to show.
Streaks of golden yellow,
Shine through the thick greenery.

No life,
Barren, dead ground with nothing for miles around.
Except these little golden green shoots,
As hope springs.

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New Candle: Pretty Vintage Bowl


New Candle: Pretty Vintage Bowl

On another one of my wonders around the delights of vintage shops, antique fairs and charity shops, I came across these pretty little glass bowls and I just had to buy them!

The bluebell fragrance is another of my favourites, it’s not too overpowering and can barely be smelt when the candle isn’t lit – but when it’s lit, it’s really quite pretty.

To see more visit: folksy.com/items/4667402-Candle-Pretty-Little-Vintage-Bowl-Bluebell

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I dare you


Day after day,
Week after week,
Month after month…
You get the picture.
There is this voice,
Dependable, always speaking.
Hold your ear up, listen

Like a drop of rain,
A breath of air,
A ray of sun.
Do you not perceive it?
Speaking so clearly,
Right in front of your face.
Open your eyes wide, seek

You know it’s there,
You can feel it inside.
Something within you hears,
Sees what’s glaringly obvious.
It’s like a pulse,
You only notice it
When you’re still.
But when are you ever really still?

Fragments,
Pieces,
Painted strokes across the sky,
Calling out to you,
Underneath the din of life.
Open your mind a little, I dare you

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