SELF FULFILLED PROPHECY

From both sides of pride,

Was born a beautiful child,

True love aligned by stars,

A little girl so meek and wild.

She was to be a fighter—

Warrior.

Bright.

Divine.

A beloved, consecrated pearl of God,

Nothing before seen by humankind.

She was to be from the other side,

Another planet,

A bridge between realms,

A fervent light.

God’s most beautiful creation,

The universe’s muse.

Anointed being.

She is divine.

The world whispered of her before she arrived,

Soft echoes carried through time.

A prophecy wrapped in silk and fire,

Bound by blood, crowned by desire.

She did not walk—

She reigned.

She did not speak—

She proclaimed.

She did not bow—

She ascended,

A goddess reborn in a mortal’s name.

Made of golden threads and siren song,

She was a dream the heavens and her ancestors longed for,

A force the Earth could not contain.

The stars wrote psalms in her honor,

Galaxies bent to make way,

The cosmos kissed her soul and whispered—

“Go, awaken the world,

For you are the one they have prayed for.”

THE AWAKENING

Do you feel it?

That quiet hum beneath your skin,

the aching whisper in your soul,

the knowing that won’t let you rest?

This world—

this maze of concrete and clocks,

of power struggles and invisible chains—

was built to keep you small.

To make you forget.

To lull you into a dream so deep

that waking feels impossible.

But you were never meant to sleep forever.

Look around.

Can’t you see?

They tell you who to be,

what to want,

how to move,

how to shrink.

They hand you masks and call them faces.

They hand you scripts and call them freedom.

But I remember.

And so do you.

Somewhere beyond the noise,

beyond the walls they’ve built around your mind,

you can hear it—

the voice of who you were before the world told you who to be.

You were never meant to play by their rules.

You were never meant to dim your fire

just to make them comfortable.

You are vast.

You are boundless.

You are the center of your own universe.

So wake up.

Close your eyes and feel it—

the pulse of the cosmos inside you,

the infinite stretching of your soul,

the truth that has always been waiting.

You don’t have to stay here.

You don’t have to keep pretending.

Build your own world.

Become who you were always meant to be.

All you have to do is remember.

And believe.

XX, ID

CENTER OF MY OWN UNIVERSE

The man-made world stretches before me,

a labyrinth of systems and structures—

fragile, fleeting, yet clinging to permanence.

A game of power, endless and hollow.

I watch them scatter,

chasing illusions, gripping tightly to their slumber.

Their ignorant bliss.

No matter what, they refuse to wake.

I wonder—

Am I the only one dreaming while the world sleeps?

Or am I the only one awake in a world lost in its dream?

I am tired of pretending,

tired of folding myself to fit into lines they have drawn.

Their rules, their expectations—

I was never made for them.

I was never meant to kneel before their cages

or shrink myself to fit their frame.

Perhaps it is time.

Time to birth a new world,

my world.

One woven from the threads of my own creation,

where I am everything and nothing,

where I am free.

Here, I am not bound by form or fate.

Here, I decide what I become,

who I am,

who I will be.

I am the center of my own cosmos,

a universe bending to the rhythm of my being.

Limitless. Infinite. Divine.

All I must do is be—

and believe.

But still, I feel the pull—

a whisper in the marrow of my soul.

A calling from somewhere beyond the veil.

I want to go back,

to return to the place where stars spoke my name,

where light danced in my veins,

where I was whole before I was ever human.

Home.

Wherever that may be.

XX, ID

Magic

I’ve spent my whole life feeling like there was always more to the story.

Something beneath the surface.

More than meets the eye.

But I was told—over and over—

that magic isn’t real.

Yet as a child, it was the most real thing I knew.

Life tried to beat this out of me.

But that feeling never left.

Through all the years, through everything I have lived—

I have found my way back.

And now, I know.

It is real.

It always was.

It surrounds me.

It is us.

The seen and the unseen.

The world within and without.

We have been living side by side all along.

For years, I was dormant.

That power—shut off.

Buried beneath dust and cobwebs.

But now, it has broken through.

Undeniable. Unmistakable.

I can never be convinced otherwise.

I have seen too much.

And everything—

is not as it seems.

Turning Emotional Baggage Into Cold Hard Cash

Pain is the currency of transformation. It arrives in the form of heartbreak so deep it feels like it might break you, betrayal sharp enough to leave scars, and grief so heavy it seems impossible to carry. But what if I told you that pain isn’t here to destroy you—it’s here to empower you?

Everything is energy, and energy cannot be destroyed. It can only be transformed. Alchemized. 

And the energy behind your most devastating emotions—the heartbreak, the rage, the sorrow—is one of the most powerful forces you will ever encounter. The universe isn’t punishing you. It’s handing you an opportunity, wrapped in chaos, to take that raw, potent energy and turn it into something extraordinary.

To turn your pain into power.

When we resist pain, we prolong it. But when we embrace it, when we stare it in the face and say, “I will use this,” we unlock its hidden potential. That heartbreak? It holds the seeds of your greatest creation. That betrayal? It carries the momentum you need to pivot. That overwhelming despair? It’s fuel, pure and untamed, waiting for you to harness it.

The law of duality tells us that for every extreme, an equal and opposite force exists. For every moment of despair, there is an equal measure of hope. For every ounce of pain, there is a matching reservoir of power. If you’re drowning in emotional baggage, consider this: what if you could turn it into gold? What if your heartbreak could become the foundation of your empire?

Yes, I’m talking about turning emotional baggage into cold, hard cash.

Not in a superficial way, but as a reflection of what happens when you alchemize your life. 

Pain births clarity- it is the purifier of the soul.

It clears out illusions and forces you to see what matters, what’s true, what’s worth fighting for. That clarity, when paired with your unique talents and vision, is your power. It’s the raw material for your next level.

This isn’t about ignoring or bypassing your emotions. Alchemy requires fire. Transformation demands that you face the heat, sit in the flames, and allow the intensity to shape you. But on the other side of that process, you’ll find the gold: the art, the innovation, the abundance that pain can produce when it’s given purpose.

Think about it—every great artist, leader, or visionary has a story rooted in struggle. They didn’t wait for life to hand them perfection; they took the imperfections, the heartbreaks, the betrayals, and turned them into their greatest works. They turned pain into power.

This isn’t about making lemonade out of lemons. It’s about taking those lemons, planting an orchard, and building an empire. It’s about transmuting heartbreak into alignment, betrayal into boundaries, grief into gratitude.

The energy behind your pain is your inheritance. It’s the charge that fuels the audacity to create something new. This is your reminder that you are the alchemist. You have the power to take the darkest moments of your life and transform them into light. You can use every ounce of anger, heartbreak, and despair to build the life you’ve been dreaming of—the life you know, deep down, you were born to live.

The question is, will you? Will you sit in the fire? Will you let the pain mold you into someone unrecognizable to your former self? Will you turn your emotional baggage into not just cash, but a life so rich in purpose and alignment that it feels like freedom?

The same way diamonds are formed under pressure and pearls are made through nature’s process of calcifying and becoming beautiful through defense of external irritants to the oyster. This is nature’s pattern.

The choice is yours. But the power? It’s already in your hands.

Take it. Use it. Alchemize it.

Wild Child

When I was a little girl, I was more like a ball of fire than a child. Always on the run, I marched to the beat of my own drum—a true wild child. Adventurous, fearless, and untamed, I was whatever I decided to be in each moment.

But as I grew older, the world began to chip away at my confidence and shiny optimism. Reality whispered that magic wasn’t real, and I couldn’t bear the thought of settling for that. Slowly, I dimmed my light. I shrank myself to fit into boxes, to please others, to find a place where I could belong.

What started as a desire for acceptance turned into years of self-loathing. I pretended to be prim and proper, molding myself into what I thought I needed to be. I didn’t feel like other girls—I never had. No matter where I went, I felt like an alien. That constant loneliness weighed heavy, leaving me questioning my place on this earth. In this universe.

During my adolescent years, I desperately wanted to fit in, but it always felt impossible. I wasn’t just struggling to belong—I was struggling to believe it was okay to be my authentic self. People I loved told me the parts of me that burned brightest were flaws. They said I was too much—too sensitive, too dramatic, too high-maintenance. That my expectations were too high and I needed to settle down, be quiet, and blend in.

The rejection of my true self led to a vicious cycle of bitterness and exhaustion. I hated who I was and felt unworthy of who I wanted to be. I became a hollow version of myself—a shell.

Are you there God? It’s me, Isabelle Margaret.

One day, in the depths of that emptiness, I thought back to the little girl I used to be. The one who was brave and fearless. The one who never asked for permission to live, dream, or exist. She believed the best was hers for the taking. Where had that girl gone? What had changed?

In that moment, I had an epiphany: What if I could find her again? What if I could rekindle that fire? The wild.

It wasn’t easy, but I began peeling back the layers of hurt and pain that had buried my soul. Slowly, I shed the false narratives and expectations that had been placed on me. I realized I had to forget who I was to truly come back home to myself.

The people who once belittled me, questioned my heart, and dimmed my light no longer had access to me. I started celebrating the qualities that made me unique—my honesty, my passion, my depth, my intensity. I began to see the beauty in my need to live deeply and authentically. The lust for life I had once known came flooding back.

I surrendered. I ended the war within.

When you invite every fiber of your being back into your life, magic happens. The weight lifts, and suddenly, everything makes sense. The dots connect. It took me years to understand that there was never anything wrong with me. I was simply not everyone’s cup of tea, and for that, I am grateful.

Sometimes, you have to lose yourself completely to find your way back.

Now, I love being this wild child. Some might call it coincidence, but I know the universe makes no mistakes. Being unapologetically me is the greatest gift I’ve ever received.

I’ve learned that I don’t need anyone else’s permission to be myself. I validate my own existence, my dreams, and my power. I am free—free to create the life I’ve always wanted, to embody the person I’ve always needed.

With that freedom comes strength. I say what needs to be said, love with an overflowing heart, bare my teeth when necessary, and thank the stars for the power I’ve reclaimed.

I will always be wild. I will never fit in the box the world has made for me. I am a spirit living a human experience—a limitless creator of my reality.

I know now it’s okay to be misunderstood. Most people can only see me as deeply as they see themselves. I am a mirror to their own consciousness. For those who truly understand me—or seek to—there is a reason you’re here, reading this. You, too, are meant to awaken. To activate. To be wild.

Though I’m no longer a little girl, she still lives within me. She is why I dream, why I create, why I fight for the life I deserve. She is still wild, and she always will be.

I am not a stereotype, a narrative, or another cog in the system. I am a rebel. A paradox. A rogue force of nature. I am where pain transforms into beauty and power.

I choose. I am. This is my life and my story. I rewrote my script and reclaimed my truth.

What story are you telling?

The Universe’s Muse

I once heard someone say that the human experience is the universe experiencing itself through one unique individual perspective. A way for the universe to know itself. The eyes are the window to the soul. We are spiritual beings, having a human experience. Each of us are perfectly made in this cosmic vision, a work of art; not one person is the same and there will never be another you. Made up of stardust. You are the apple of its eye, the universe’s muse. You are the cosmos.

Life itself is like a play, a game, a movie. We each have a narrative we play over and over again. You are the director, the star of the show, the center of the universe, and the audience all at once.

“In the end we’ll all become stories (Margaret Atwood).”

The story we tell and the role we play is up to us. The tragedy in this life is forgetting who we are and what we come from.

Throughout time, music is the intricate inexplicable medium that colors and records these stories, feelings, and becomes the soundtracks to our lives. It weaves the web of time. Through generations, eras, chapters of history and the human existence. It is profound to say the least. It is this music that we express our emotions through and share the good, bad, ugly, beautiful moments of this thing called life. These songs that we connect to. That make us feel like the main character in our own lives. Music is best felt and connects us all through heart, soul, and the human condition.

My father is an artist. He passed this gift down to me. When I was a little girl he told me that in order for something to be art, it has to make you feel something. That’s stuck with me my whole life. Even if you feel disgust, hatred, sadness. Art is the mirror of our own reflections. Evoking and creating feeling is the artists’ one true job.

If this is the case, each of our stories is a work of art. Us and the lives we lead, the stories we tell, and all of the aliveness we feel from beginning to end is all one beautiful masterpiece. And the music we listen to is the soundtrack to our human experience. This is our cosmic connection.

So with that being said, this is the soundtrack to my life.

I am living the poetry I can not write.

I am my own self fulfilling prophecy.

Hello, I’m Iz Divine.

Welcome to my little universe.

XX