Rainbow Soul Light

Rainbow soul with a cosmic mind

ADHD fire + autistic stardust

Seeing patterns, feeling deeply, creating endlessly

Being different is beautiful

[Rainbow Soul Light @rainbowhavenn]

For years,
I searched for the missing pieces
of a puzzle I thought was broken.
I tried to become easier to understand.
Smaller.
Quieter.
Less sensitive.
Less intense.
I learned to wear a thousand masks
and called it survival.
I thought exhaustion was weakness.
I thought overwhelm was failure.
I thought feeling the world so deeply
was something I needed to hide.
Then I found sobriety.
Eighteen months of waking up
without running from myself.
Eighteen months of meeting the person
beneath the pain,
beneath the fear,
beneath every version of me
created just to survive.
And there she was.
The child who noticed everything.
The heart that felt everything.
The mind that connected patterns
others never saw.
The person who needed quiet,
honesty, routine,
and a world that made room
for a different way of being.
I discovered that I was not too much.
I was not difficult.
I was not failing at being human.
I was neurodivergent.
I was autistic.
And suddenly,
my whole life became a story
with missing pages finally returned.
The struggles had names.
The differences had meaning.
The sensitivity had purpose.
Healing was not becoming someone new.
Healing was finally embracing
the person who had been there
all along.
My sobriety gave me clarity.
My courage gave me truth.
My neurodivergent mind gave me magic.
I am not a problem to solve.
I am a person to understand.
And after all these years,
I am finally learning
to love the beautiful, brilliant,
unmasked soul
I was born to be.

#BraveWrite

[Rainbow Soul Light @rainbowhavenn]

Once upon a time, in a strange little meadow, there lived a block of cheese named Armadillo.
Armadillo was not an ordinary cheese. He had tiny cheese legs, a brave little cheese heart, and a very serious-looking rind. Every morning, he would roll through the meadow shouting:
“MAKE WAY! THE CHEESE IS COMING!”
One sunny afternoon, Armadillo was peacefully rolling past a patch of clover when he heard a loud BOING!
A grasshopper named Kitten landed right in front of him.
“Hey!” Kitten shouted. “You rolled over my favorite flower!”
Armadillo stopped.
“I did WHAT?!”
“My flower!” Kitten pointed dramatically. “You flattened it!”
Armadillo looked behind him.
Sure enough, there was a very squashed daisy.
“Oh,” Armadillo said. “Sorry.”
But Kitten wasn't satisfied.
“You can't just say sorry! You're cheese!”
“And you're a grasshopper!” Armadillo replied.
Kitten gasped.
“That's fighting words!”

Before Armadillo could explain that he had no idea what that meant, Kitten jumped into the air and KICKED Armadillo's cheese rind.

BONK!!

Armadillo rolled backward.

“HEY!”

He charged forward.

Kitten hopped sideways.

Armadillo rolled past him and crashed into a mushroom.

💢 POOF!! 💢

Mushroom dust exploded everywhere.

Kitten laughed.

“You missed!”

Armadillo narrowed his cheese eyes.
“Oh, yeah?”

He curled himself into a little cheese wheel and began rolling faster and faster.

WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

Kitten bounced from leaf to leaf, dodging him.

“You'll never catch me!”

But then Armadillo noticed something.
Kitten always jumped to the same rock after every hop.
So Armadillo waited.
Kitten jumped.
BOING!
And Armadillo rolled underneath him.
Kitten landed directly on Armadillo's back.
“HA!” shouted Armadillo.
“HA!” shouted Kitten.
They suddenly realized they were both laughing.
Kitten climbed off.
“You're actually pretty fun to fight.”
Armadillo smiled.
“And you're pretty annoying.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn't a compliment.”
“I'll take it anyway.”
The two enemies shook hands—or, in Armadillo's case, a tiny cheese corner.
From that day forward, Armadillo the Cheese and Kitten the Grasshopper became best friends.
They still fought sometimes.
But only over extremely important things.
Like who got the biggest mushroom.
Who could jump the highest.
And, most importantly…
Who was allowed to eat the last piece of cheese.
The answer was usually neither of them.
Because the last piece always mysteriously disappeared.
And everyone suspected the mouse.

#Bravewrite #Foxprose #WritersCommunity #Vss #Vss365

[Rainbow Soul Light @rainbowhavenn]

Once upon a time, beside a sparkling blue river, there lived a tiny mouse named Milo.
Milo was smaller than a leaf and could fit comfortably inside a teacup. But despite his size, he was very curious and loved exploring the forest.
One sunny afternoon, Milo wandered down to the river and spotted the biggest creature he had ever seen.
It was a hippopotamus.
The hippo was sitting peacefully in the water, with only his enormous ears and eyes sticking above the surface.
“Hello!” squeaked Milo.
The hippo opened one eye.
“Oh! Hello there,” he rumbled. “Who are you?”
“I’m Milo. Who are you?”
“My name is Hugo.”
Milo stared at Hugo in amazement.
“You're HUGE!”
Hugo laughed so loudly that the water around him splashed.
“And you're tiny!”
The two became friends.
Every day, Milo would visit Hugo at the river. Milo told Hugo stories about the forest, while Hugo showed Milo his favourite places along the riverbank.
One day, a terrible storm arrived.
Rain poured down, and the river began rising quickly.
Milo tried to run home, but the rushing water swept away the little wooden bridge he used to cross the stream.
“Oh no!” cried Milo. “How will I get home?”
Hugo saw his tiny friend sitting sadly on the riverbank.
“Climb onto my back,” he said.
Milo carefully climbed onto Hugo's enormous back.
Hugo waded through the shallow water and carried Milo safely across.
When they reached the other side, Milo hugged Hugo's giant ear.
“Thank you! You saved me!”
Hugo smiled.
“That's what friends are for.”
A few days later, Hugo had his own problem.
A thorn had become stuck between his toes, and no matter how much he shook his foot, he couldn't get it out.
Milo noticed the problem.
“I can help!”
Because Milo was so small, he could squeeze between Hugo's toes. Very carefully, he pulled the thorn free.
Hugo sighed with relief.
“You saved me too!”
Milo grinned.
“So I guess being big isn't everything.”
“And being small isn't either,” said Hugo.
From that day forward, everyone in the forest knew about the unlikely friendship between Milo the mouse and Hugo the hippo.
And whenever someone wondered how such a tiny mouse and such a gigantic hippo could possibly be best friends, Milo and Hugo would simply smile.
Because they had learned something important:
A friendship isn't measured by size. It's measured by how much you care for each other.
And beside the sparkling river, the little mouse and the enormous hippo continued their adventures together.

#Bravewrite

[Rainbow Soul Light @rainbowhavenn]

Deep beneath the oldest forest in the world, where the trees whispered secrets to the moon, there was a legend about an orb that could heal what ordinary magic could not.

They called it the Healing Orb.
For centuries, people had searched for it. Warriors wanted it to mend their wounds. Kings wanted it to cure their illnesses. Magicians wanted its power.

But the ancient stories all agreed on one thing:

The orb could only be found by someone who wasn't looking for power.

Laura had never considered herself a hero.
She was simply tired.

For months, she had carried an invisible weight; a collection of memories, fears, and wounds that seemed to follow her everywhere. Some days, even getting out of bed felt like climbing a mountain.

One evening, after another difficult day, Laura wandered into the forest.

She followed a narrow trail illuminated by tiny blue flowers.

"Where are you taking me?" she whispered.
The flowers shimmered.

Then one by one, they began glowing brighter.

Laura followed them deeper into the woods until she reached a circular clearing.
In the center stood an ancient stone altar.
And floating above it was a small golden orb.

Laura stopped.
"So you're real."

The orb pulsed gently.
Warmth spread through the clearing.
A voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

"What do you seek?"
Laura thought about it.

She could have asked for happiness.

She could have asked to erase every painful memory.

She could have asked never to hurt again.
Instead, she whispered:
"I want to learn how to heal."

The forest became completely silent.
The orb descended into her hands.

It wasn't hot.
It wasn't cold.
It felt like holding sunlight.

Suddenly, Laura saw pieces of herself she had forgotten: the little girl who had once loved drawing, the teenager who had survived things she never thought she could survive, the woman who kept getting back up even when she was exhausted.

She saw her mistakes.
Her grief.
Her anger.
Her fear.

But she also saw something else.
Her resilience.

The orb didn't erase the darkness.
Instead, it placed a tiny light inside it.
And Laura finally understood.

Healing wasn't becoming someone who had never been hurt.

Healing was becoming someone who could look at her wounds and say:
"You are part of my story, but you are not the whole story."

The orb dissolved into thousands of golden sparks.

They floated around Laura like fireflies before settling gently against her heart.
For the first time in a long while, she breathed deeply.

Nothing magical had changed about the world.

But something magical had changed inside her.

When Laura returned to the village the next morning, the people asked what she had found in the forest.

Laura smiled.
"I found magic."

"Where is it?" they asked.

She placed a hand over her heart.
"Here."

And from that day forward, whenever someone came to Laura carrying their own invisible wounds, she never promised that magic could make their pain disappear.

Instead, she sat beside them.

She listened.

And when they were ready, she reminded them of the secret the Healing Orb had taught her:

Even the smallest light can survive the darkest forest.

#bravewrite

[Rainbow Soul Light @rainbowhavenn]

There is a kind of magic
in giving pain a name,
in taking what once lived in silence
and teaching it to speak.
A poem does not ask the wound
to disappear.
It simply sits beside it,
quietly,
without looking away.
Here, sorrow becomes a stanza,
anger becomes a rhythm,
tears become ink
falling softly onto the page.
And somehow,
in the space between one word
and the next,
something begins to loosen.
The heart remembers
it is more than what happened to it.
The past becomes a story
instead of a sentence.
Poetry does not always heal
by making everything beautiful.
Sometimes it heals
by letting the ugly be honest
by saying,
This hurt.
This mattered.
I survived this moment.
And then another line comes.
And another.
Until the page is no longer
just a place where pain is kept,
but a place where hope
quietly learns to breathe.
Perhaps that is the beauty
of poetry:
We take the pieces
we thought were too broken to hold,
and with nothing but words,
we begin to make something
whole enough
to call our own.
Not healed all at once.
Not untouched.
But still here.
Still writing.
Still becoming.

#vss #vss365 #bravewrite #foxprose

[Rainbow Soul Light @rainbowhavenn]

@BigDawg31779 🩵

[Rainbow Soul Light @rainbowhavenn]

Once upon a time, deep inside an enchanted forest, there lived a unicorn named Luna. Her mane shimmered like moonlight, and wherever she walked, tiny flowers bloomed beneath her hooves.
But Luna had one problem: she was terribly lonely.
One evening, while wandering beside a sparkling creek, Luna heard a strange rustling in the bushes.
“Who’s there?” she called.
A little raccoon cautiously poked his head through the leaves.
“Um… hello,” he said. “My name is Rowan.”
Luna smiled. “Hello, Rowan. What are you doing out here so late?”
Rowan looked down sadly. “I’m looking for the Moonstone. It disappeared from my family’s tree hollow, and without it, our forest lanterns won’t glow tonight.”
Luna immediately offered to help.
Together, the unicorn and raccoon searched beneath ancient trees, across mossy hills, and beside the creek. Rowan was clever and noticed tiny paw prints leading toward a mysterious cave.
Inside the cave, they discovered the Moonstone sitting beside a sleeping dragon.
Rowan whispered, “We should probably leave.”
Luna giggled softly. “Probably.”
But as they turned around, the dragon opened one enormous eye.
“Why are you taking my glowing stone?” the dragon asked.
Rowan bravely stepped forward. “It belongs to our forest. Everyone is waiting for its light.”
The dragon looked at the two friends for a long moment.
“I didn’t know,” he said. “I found it and thought it was a gift.”
Luna smiled. “Perhaps we can find you something else that glows.”
So they brought the dragon a basket of enchanted fireflies. The dragon happily returned the Moonstone, and the three of them walked back toward the forest together.
That night, the Moonstone was placed high in the branches of the Great Oak. Its silver light spread across the entire forest.
Rowan looked at Luna.
“You know,” he said, “I thought I was looking for a stone tonight.”
Luna tilted her head. “And what did you find?”
Rowan smiled.
“A best friend.”
From that night onward, Luna the unicorn and Rowan the raccoon explored the enchanted forest together. They learned that friendship could appear in the most unexpected places, and that sometimes, the greatest treasures weren't things you could hold.
They were the friends who stayed beside you when the forest became dark.
And under the gentle glow of the Moonstone, the unicorn and raccoon lived happily ever after.

#vss #vss365

[Nevaeh 💖🦋💖 @art_soulessence]

Beautiful Sunday Souls
🔆🌧️
Have a cup of Java and meet the day in comfort ☕

Be well. Safe & blessed 🙏🏻

[Rainbow Soul Light @rainbowhavenn]

@aaniVibeTheory My special interests are rainbows. I'm a soul and a light, offering hope to all

[Carmen Baca @carmen_author]

#vss365 #dice
“Roll the dice already,” impatient Ed cried.
His opponent’s eyes narrowed in warning.
Feckless Ed sat back, took it all in stride,
didn’t see the game had turned alarming.
Gambling with the Devil, destitute Ed died.

[Sunny @Ginger_ajm]

“The Scent of a Rose”

StreetArt by JEKS ONE
In Lynn, Massachusetts, USA

[V.J.Brindha @StarsWright]

#Drop_down not

To a #dice with spicy remark

But fry them with victories

#Haiku
#vss365
#Bravewrite
#Micropoetry
#WritingCommunity

[J.R.R. TolKee @Jeremyakee]

Nothing, just needed to stretch my legs.

[Nina🪻 @rvjie7915]

O céu desce manso para beber no rio
Nuvens brancas flutuam sem destino
Colinas dobram-se em silêncio antigo
A água guarda tudo sem ruído
O vento esqueceu que existe ar
Só o reflexo responde ao mundo inteiro
Não sabe onde um começa e outro acaba

[freckled acid shoes @acid_shoes]

Gasp

Following those flaming
Cinders floating
Onto the icy
Lake below,
I find a blackened
Trail leading
Away from
This war zone-
Demons extinguished
That glorious ball of
Burning souls
Flying recklessly
toward a dying
orb
Of time-
Charred angels
Screaming with
One last breath as
Whispering
shadows enveloped
Their brittle wings-
None
Escaping
This present
Demise

A bloody devil
Drags his last
Ragged gasp
Into shredded gills,
I shudder
Then witness
his struggle
Ceasing -
There is no
Rest nor peace
For the
Living
Gods...

Ron Walker
#acid_shoes

[S.T.Hills @Hills1S]

Over the moon to have 5 haiku’s published in #1 Best Seller “Haiku for Soulmates”.

Find a copy here: https://t.co/itug4Ul6Q9

💕#haikuforsoulmates 💕 📄35

[Becoming Still @becomingstill_]

Refined by Fire

Gold must pass through fire
before its worth is known;

the flame consumes
the lesser things
and leaves the gold alone.

It does not ask the fire
why it has come to stay.

It only bears the burning
until the dross
gives way.

Perhaps the soul is fashioned
through seasons
just the same—

through nights
that strip our certainty,
through loss,
through grief,
through flame.

We think the fire
will break us.

We fear
what it may take.

Yet sometimes
what it burns away
was never ours
to make.

The names we wore
for safety,

the armour
worn as skin,

the selves we shaped
for others
to keep the truth
within.

Layer by layer,
the borrowed things
fall away—

the roles,
the masks,
the stories
we mistook
for who we were.

And when the fire
grows quiet,

when ash
gives way to air,

we find beneath
the ruin
something enduring
there.

Not something
newly fashioned,

not something
made anew,

but something
whole and certain
that the fire
never knew.

For gold
was always golden
beneath the dust
and flame.

Perhaps the deepest
becoming

is not becoming
someone new,

but having
everything false
burned away—

until there is
nothing left
but your own name.

[𝐀ⲛⲁⲙⲓⲕ𝐀 @anamikadunknown]

We met
where chance had thrown
two restless hearts
into the same silence,

and called it love.

Perhaps we were never
meant to stay—
only to discover
how beautifully
two strangers can belong
before the numbers turn.

For fate is a quiet gambler;
it gives, it takes,
then watches us
mistake its randomness
for destiny.

I have lost you
to a number I never chose,
to a turn of the world
I could not undo.

Yet here I am—

gathering the scattered pieces
of what we were,
not to change the past,
but to believe
there is still another beginning
waiting somewhere
beyond the fall.

Because sometimes
the bravest thing
a heart can do
is trust the unknown
one more time.

#Anamika
#dice #poetrycommunity
#FoxProse #vss365

[thegoodpoetsdiary @thegoodpoetdia]

My gaze into your closed eyes
Seeing my world my universe..

[Dr Anish K Gupta @optionurol]

the dice stayed
in your pocket

we had already chosen
the dangerous part

to sit this close
and pretend

nothing
had been decided

#dice #uropoet #vss365

📷 from X

[Rainbow Soul Light @rainbowhavenn]

@Write2Fite Bullies do not belong on here. I truly wish them well.