Author: pavlovswoo

A quiet whisper in the mind,

But loud enough to break the spine.

“Just one more time,” it calls, a cruel refrain,

A silent scream, an endless chain.

The urge to repeat, to set things right,

Consumes the day, haunts the night.

Each action feels like it will save,

But the weight of it makes you feel enslaved.

Anxiety floods like a violent wave,

Drowning every breath you try to save.

The heart races, hands shake with fear,

Trapped in a storm that no one can hear.

You try to resist, but it’s all in vain,

A battle you fight, but it’s always the same.

Cursed with this need to make it clean,

To fix the broken, to erase the unseen.

Feeling trapped in a mind that won’t let go,

The feeling of being stuck, drowning slow.

Evasive thoughts, they twist and bend,

Loneliness is a constant, no means to an end.

You search for release, for just a small breath,

But each repetition only brings more depth.

For that moment, you feel a fleeting peace,

But it’s gone as fast as the storm’s release.

The relief never lasts; it’s never enough,

You’re left with the ache, the pain so tough.

Chasing the calm that slips through your grasp,

Unable to break free, caught in the clasp.

One more time, the mind demands,

A never-ending cycle that understands,

The torment, the torture, the silent cry,

And the loneliness you can’t deny.

You are a prisoner, shackled by thought,

A soul searching for peace that can’t be bought.

OCD, a war within the mind,

Where silence and calm are hard to find.

A new window, open wide—

moonlight spilling like silver secrets,

breezes laced with forgotten lullabies.

She sits, framed by the hush of the world,

fearless yet weightless,

a dreamer caught between sky and earth,

her soul drifting like mist in the night.

A heart full—overflowing, aching—

love woven with longing,

prayers slipping through her fingertips

like dandelion wishes on the wind.

She is many things—

faithful, kind, beautifully unbound.

Sorrows and triumphs shimmer in her gaze,

a story still rising with the stars,

a life still dancing on the edge of dawn.

Vulnerable—skinless, raw,

No armor, no walls, just me.

A soul trembling in the open air,

Every scar, every crack exposed.

The world watches—

Do they see the weight I carry?

The love I pour, the pain I swallow,

The silent battles no one names?

Naked—not flesh, but spirit,

Stripped of pretense, stripped of fear.

My heart beats wild, unguarded,

A fragile thing in trembling hands.

I burn with love, with passion,

With hope that aches and never fades.

I am open, bleeding light and longing,

Terrified, yet refusing to hide.

Arms open wide, He pulls me in,

A love so deep, where grace begins.

No judgment, no shame, just endless light,

A refuge strong in the darkest night.

My Savior, my hope, my peace, my guide,

When I’m lost, He stays by my side.

Sinless Lamb, yet He took my place,

Pouring mercy, pouring grace.

He is home, where my soul can rest,

My closest friend, my heart’s request.

Through every tear, through every fight,

My Jesus holds me—my saving light

Anxiety

It coils like a noose, tightening with every breath,

Squeezing, suffocating, pulling me away.

Voices blur, laughter fades—

I am here, but not really.

It steals my time, my joy, my warmth,

Wrapping its fingers around my throat,

A silent thief in the night,

Leaving only the echo of a pounding heart.

I reach, but no one is close enough.

Loneliness settles in my bones,

A hollow ache that never leaves,

A weight I can’t put down.

My skin crawls, my face burns—

A fire beneath my skin,

But I can’t escape.

Not yet.

Touch-Up Version:

As Joshua sat beneath the ancient olive tree at Mt. Nebo, he felt an indescribable connection to the history that surrounded him. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the valleys of Israel and the rugged landscape of Jordan. It was as if time itself had paused, allowing him to glimpse into the lives of those who had walked this land long before him.

Closing his eyes, he imagined the footsteps of Moses, who had once stood in this very place, gazing at the Promised Land he would never enter. The whispers of history wove through the wind, carrying stories of faith, struggle, and resilience. Each breeze seemed to echo with ancient prayers, the laughter of children, and the songs of generations past.

Taking a deep breath, Joshua opened his eyes to the breathtaking landscape before him—an untouched canvas waiting for new stories to be written. The mountains, valleys, and rivers held secrets he was eager to uncover. With a heart full of anticipation, he stepped forward, ready to embrace the journey ahead, knowing that each step would not only bring him closer to the heart of this sacred land but also to a deeper understanding of himself.

As he set off, the earthy scent of the soil mingled with the crisp mountain air, invigorating his spirit. The rugged landscape stretched before him, dotted with olive groves whose gnarled trunks stood as silent witnesses to centuries of growth and harvest. He marveled at their resilience, thriving in the rocky terrain, much like the people who had cultivated this land for generations.

Reaching a panoramic viewpoint, he gazed upon the vast expanse of the Jordan River. Its waters shimmered under the sun, winding through the valley like an ancient lifeline. He could almost hear the whispers of those who had once journeyed along its banks—shepherds tending their flocks, pilgrims seeking solace, and travelers forging new paths.

As he ventured deeper into the land, he stumbled upon the ruins of an ancient city—perhaps Jerash, its towering Roman columns standing defiantly against the clear blue sky. Wandering through the remnants of temples and theaters, he imagined the bustling streets of the past, alive with merchants, scholars, and dreamers. He admired the artistry and engineering that had flourished here, a testament to human ingenuity across the ages.

His journey led him to the majestic Rose City of Petra, where the red sandstone cliffs glowed in the afternoon light. The sight of the Treasury took his breath away. As he traced its intricate façade with his eyes, he envisioned the traders and travelers who had once gathered in this crossroads of civilizations, exchanging goods and stories from distant lands.

Further south, the quiet canyons of Wadi Rum welcomed him with their otherworldly beauty. Towering rock formations rose majestically against the endless sky, their surfaces shaped by wind and time. The silence of the desert enveloped him, grounding him in the present while allowing his mind to wander through the echoes of the past. As he walked through the shifting sands, he felt a deep peace settle within him—a reminder that even in solitude, one could feel profoundly connected.

At every turn, the land spoke to him. He saw the fingerprints of God in its landscapes, its ruins, and in the warmth of its people. Each moment was a testament to the faith, perseverance, and devotion that had shaped this region for millennia. He no longer felt like a mere traveler but a participant in an ongoing story, one that bridged the past with the present and wove his own experiences into the greater tapestry of history.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, he found a perch atop a rocky outcrop in Wadi Rum. The sky ignited in brilliant hues of orange, pink, and purple, mirroring the fiery spirit of the land itself. In that moment, he was overwhelmed with gratitude—for the beauty of creation, the richness of history, and the journey that had led him here.

As darkness fell, the desert sky revealed a breathtaking canopy of stars, each one a silent witness to the stories of generations before him. The vastness of the universe reminded him of his own smallness, yet at the same time, it affirmed the depth of his relationship with God. Beneath the stars, he felt humbled, inspired, and profoundly at peace.

His next destination was the Dead Sea, a place of both wonder and healing. The sight of people floating effortlessly on its mineral-rich waters intrigued him. When he finally waded in, the buoyancy took him by surprise, lifting him weightlessly above the surface. A laugh escaped his lips as he splashed around like a child, the warm, salty water embracing him. Smearing the therapeutic mud onto his skin, he allowed himself to simply be—to rest, to heal, to let go.

Each day in Jordan unfolded with new adventures, rich encounters with locals, and the exchange of stories. He savored the vibrant flavors of Middle Eastern cuisine, experienced the warmth of hospitality, and absorbed the complex histories that had shaped this land for millennia.

Before he knew it, his journey was coming to an end. As he packed his bag, he reflected on the experiences that had filled his heart—the breathtaking landscapes, the sacred moments of reflection, and the lessons learned along the way. This journey had been far more than a mere exploration of places; it had been an exploration of faith, a search for God in the echoes of history and the beauty of His creation.

As he stepped onto the plane, Joshua stole one last glance at the land that had left an indelible mark on his soul. He carried with him not just memories, but a renewed sense of purpose and a heart forever changed. He knew this was not the end—only the beginning of a lifelong journey of faith, discovery, and adventure.