By Beulah the Boundaried, First of Her Name, Ghoster of Red Flags

❄️ Let It Glow

By Beulah the Boundaried, First of Her Name, Ghoster of Red Flags

By Beulah the Boundaried, First of Her Name, Ghoster of Red Flags

They said,

“She’s too picky.”

“She’s too proud.”

“She’ll be lonely.”

But I?

I sip tea with angels,

watching sunsets paint promises in gold and crimson hues,

dodging red flags like potholes on a quiet, moonlit road.

Because I’d rather be alone

than a plus-one to chaos,

a shadow lost in the noise of a thunderstorm’s false promise.

I’ve seen what rushed love becomes:

Cardboard chemistry — flimsy as dry leaves,

discounted destiny — cracked mirrors reflecting broken dreams,

God put on hold — silent prayers drowned by the rush.

I don’t chase timelines —

I honor alignment,

like stars that dance slowly in a midnight sky,

while they crave fireworks,

I wait for fire —

holy embers glowing steady beneath the ashes,

slow-burning and sure.

So let them wonder why I walk alone,

like a lone wolf tracing ancient paths beneath whispering pines.

Tell them:

I’m not missing out.

I’m tuning in —

to joy, to peace,

to the whispered yes of Heaven,

like soft rain after a drought,

like the quiet bloom of night flowers under silver light.

Because some of us weren’t built for the soft life —

we were built for the right life,

carved in patience,

woven with courage,

and baptized in the fire of discernment.

And no, I haven’t let it go.

✨

I’ve let it glow —

a steady flame that guides me home.