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Writer's pictureAmy Frank

Pronoia (Poetry)

Pronoia: The Belief that the Universe is Conspiring in Your Favour


I’m so good at writing

unrequited love stories…

How I walked away

to salvage my sanity,

yet cannot seem to escape

seeing the vague similarities

of him in so many...

although, so far,

no one’s had

the same energy.


My mind wants to believe

that it’s not the end,

that we’ll see each other again,

maybe in a month

or perhaps years down the road.

How the fire may have dwindled

and waned

yet that eye-lock;

that inner knowing

that extends far beyond

this rational place,

will spark the fire

in us, again.


I trust that what’s meant to be

will be,

yet I also know

that I must assume,

rationally,

that he was but another fantasy.

Another body and face

in which to place

my desires, hope, and faith.

At least I’ve learned more

about what I’m looking for.


It’s okay to let go, baby girl.

The future is more incredible

than you can daydream.

Trust your intuition

and be open to

the possibilities.

There are forces in this Universe

that cannot be seen;

they cannot be measured

with scientific means,

yet they’re as real

as the Serpent Mound,

magnificently aligned

with the winter

and summer solstice.


Whoever he is,

I know that he hears me

in his waking mind,

especially at night

before he closes his eyes.

He will not let me go

no matter how far the journey

takes us both.

The sun doesn’t want

to go to back to sleep

as he’s found his peace

in the moon—

In me.

His soul cannot settle,

it can hardly breathe

until he wraps his arms

around my body;

A drive to safe-keep

my little light

that came to him

during a dark, dark, time.

He’s strong enough to take a life

but healed enough

to know what’s right.

He knows the power of his hands;

His heart, once hardened,

now understands

the strength within  a tender grasp.


Long ago, a civilization,

much more advanced than our own,

placed great importance

on the alignment

of the seasons and stars.

They left lasting monuments

to guide us,

yet we have forgotten

who they—We—are.

The time has come.

We are waking up.

The impending sunrise

cannot be stopped

but please, fear not,

for it will be

more astonishing

than any of us

could have dreamed.


All that’s in shadow

will come to light.

Help has arrived.

We are so, so loved.


We are not alone.

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