A World On Fire
A Heart Awake
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There comes the point in every soul's journey when the noise grows unbearable and the world feels too cracked to heal. That is the moment of the mist-the fog of confusion, grief, or disillusionment. But what if this is not the end? What if fog is the beginning of vision? We live in a world addicted to noise-external and internal. Social feeds buzz, self-talk loops, and responsibilities clamor for attention. But healing asks us to step outside that noise and into the sanctuary of stillness. Not to escape life-but to hear it, finally, without distortion. The world is weeping. Beneath the noise o...
There comes the point in every soul's journey when the noise grows unbearable and the world feels too cracked to heal. That is the moment of the mist-the fog of confusion, grief, or disillusionment. But what if this is not the end? What if fog is the beginning of vision? We live in a world addicted to noise-external and internal. Social feeds buzz, self-talk loops, and responsibilities clamor for attention. But healing asks us to step outside that noise and into the sanctuary of stillness. Not to escape life-but to hear it, finally, without distortion. The world is weeping. Beneath the noise of progress and the silence of despair, there is a tremble-a heartbeat faltering beneath the weight of forgotten love. Cities hum with loneliness, forests echo with grief, and souls drift like ships in a storm-tossed sea, searching for a shore they cannot name. In this unraveling, A Broken World: A Heart Awake emerges not as a book, but as a living flame-a poetic invocation for the wounded, the wandering, and the wild-hearted. A World on Fire: A Heart Awake is a stream of starlight winding through the ruins. It is a garden blooming in grief, a songbird singing in the rubble, a heartbeat stirring the sleeping giant of humanity. It is a lullaby for the lost and a war cry for the wounded. It reminds us that love is not lost-it is buried beneath the noise, waiting to be unearthed. That healing is not a destination-it is a daily devotion. That the world may be mad, but it is also miraculous. In this sacred offering, the heart is not portrayed as fragile-it is a phoenix, forged in flame, reborn in tenderness. The soul is a storm, yes, but also the sky after rain. Hope flutters in the ribcage like a caged bird aching to be free, and love-untamed, unyielding-waits in the quiet spaces between fear and grace. Misty's voice flows like a stream through shadowed valleys, winding, luminous, and unstoppable. Her metaphors are not decoration-they are lifelines. They are bridges across the broken. Misty writes with the voice of one who has walked through fire and returned with open arms. Her words do not merely speak; they bleed, they bloom, they breathe. Each page is a love letter etched in longing, rebellion, and radical compassion-a garden of wildflowers growing through the cracks of a broken earth. This is not a collection of poems. It is a soul-song-a lighthouse. A phoenix rising from the ashes of sorrow. "We are breaking, we are fading, we are lost... And yet, love has not abandoned us." Here, the heart is not a fragile thing-it is a phoenix cloaked in ash, rising with wings of flame and feathers soaked in tears. The soul is a tempest, yes, but also the hush after thunder, the golden hush where healing begins. Hope is a bird caged in the ribcage, bruised but still singing, still dreaming of sky. And love-wild, wounded, wondrous-waits in the quiet spaces between fear and grace, whispering, "Come home." This book is for the empaths who feel the ache of the world in their skin. For the dreamers who have been told to dim their fire. For the rebels who refuse to go numb. It is for every soul who has stood at the edge of despair and whispered, "There must be more than this hollow." It is a call to rise-not in rage, but in radiant tenderness. To mend what's torn. To remember what's sacred. To become the healer you were born to be. "Let this be your lighthouse in the fog, your fire in the frost, your bridge across the broken."
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