Abear Mikha

Anyone who loved Princess Diana will certainly finish her brother @cspencer1508 memoir, Swan Song, with tears in their eyes. I closed the final page about half an hour ago, and my mind kept returning to a particular passage, one that another reader might easily pass by without realizing just how meaningful it is. It is a moment where Diana humbly celebrates her brother’s success: “‘Yes – I’m so proud of my little brother,’ Diana chimed in. ‘He’s found a job that really suits him. Bravo, Carlos! Yay!’ She clapped lightly, her hands fluttering in front of her smiling face, while we all laughed.” She claps her hands, smiles, and rejoices with a childlike heart simply because something wonderful has happened to somebody she loves. There is no calculation in her joy, no rivalry, and no resentment, only pure, innocent love that is as rare as it is precious in this world of ours. It immediately brings to mind the words of Jesus Christ of Nazareth: “...Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.” — Matthew 18:3 In those few words, we see the true essence of Diana beneath the weight of public life and personal sorrow: a woman of profound grace whose heart remained vulnerable enough to love purely and rejoice for another soul without a trace of envy. And then, at the very end of the book, Mr. Charles Spencer’s words carry sorrow and brotherly devotion that pierce the soul: "I would like to end by thanking God for the small mercies he has shown us at this dreadful time. For taking Diana at her most beautiful and radiant and when she had joy in her private life. Above all we give thanks for the life of a woman I am so proud to be able to call my sister, the unique, the complex, the extraordinary and irreplaceable Diana, whose beauty, both internal and external, will never be extinguished from our minds." Reading those words, it is impossible not to cry, and recognize what a wonderful brother Charles has been to Diana, standing as a lifelong guardian of her memory with such unwavering and tender loyalty. And now, sitting here in quiet reflection upon the immense courage it takes to share such a deeply personal book with the world, knowing the quiet storms and bittersweet memories it may stir, I am carried back to a meaningful moment from earlier in this book, when Diana spoke to her little brother and said: "Remember, you are a Spencer..." Thank you, Mr. Charles Spencer, for gifting us the cherished memories and meaningful stories preserved in your heart and now in your book. I know with absolute certainty that genuine love transcends the limits of space and time, and that the sacred spirit of Diana is held dear by every human soul who admired her humanitarian spirit and by God. She shall live on forever within history and in the memory of all humankind. 🤍🤍

I saw some clips from the Lebanese fashion designer Elie Saab for his Fall 2026 collection, and they completely inspired this poem. Just to clarify, it's totally from my imagination—nothing to do with the actual models or the designer. 🤍 The Autumn Masquerade By Abbey Therese Mikha Across the lake where darkened shadows sweep, A black swan glides while autumn stirs from sleep. And people sit and watch, in colours of every flame, As winds whisper softly, calling each by name. And the second woman comes with a flash of burning red, A fiery gown indicating summer's warmth has fled. She moves like fire beneath the fading sun, The final spark of summer, slowly undone. And behind her comes a woman, fragile, sheer, Her delicate gown revealing what is to many of the people of this world dear. Through every movement, fragments of her soul are shown, In feathers woven softly with threads of pale gold grown. She does not speak, yet something seems to say, That simple women still do endure each day. Her beauty is not meant to be displayed, It just lives within this quiet grace's soul which the universe has made. Then hope awakens in a tender green, The softest shade the world has ever seen. A gentle dream from spring's remembered ghost, Where branches and leaves now gather along the coast. She carries something true and living in her eyes, A piece of spring that never dies. Though summer fades and colder winds are near, She wears the quiet promise that hope can reappear. Then grey arrives in intricate design, Where silver threads with heavy shadows twine. A butterfly mask rests lightly on her face, Concealing some sorrow beneath a woman's heart, that gentle place. She walks between the darkness and the light, Her mysteries unfolding through the night. For every heart contains what others cannot see, A hidden world of what we are meant to be. Then comes the woman dressed in black and silver spun, A red rose upon her shoulder, touched by the setting sun. Perhaps it bleeds because colder days have begun, Or because wounds sometimes remain when all is said and done. The rose clings like grief upon a heavy heart, A reminder of where shadows leave their mark. And hidden truths, once buried deep from sight, Begin to break beneath the fading light. For illusions, too, must someday lose their hold, When truths emerge from stories long foretold. The masks they wear may hide what words deny, Yet truth will find a way beneath God's sky. Then rise the masks, a crowd of second faces, With knowing eyes and faint graces. Each carries secrets no person could perceive, A thousand silent stories, and in their quietness they grieve. They are the mermaids adrift on a moonlit sea, Worshipped for beauty, yet hiding the angels they may be. Their slender forms reveal the love they might win, While some of their deep yearnings remain locked within. And then she appears, the bride in glittering gold, Who steps into view as the dark shadows around her grow bold. She does all she can just to carry her light, Seen by the watchers who misunderstand her plight. Yet still she walks through this shadowed dishonest world, Holding close to her soul that she’s still a chosen pearl. No one can see the weight she carries in her soul, Or how much strength it takes to keep herself whole. Her golden veil shimmers as shadows draw near, And beneath its brilliance live memories of fear. She tries to walk as though darkness cannot win, Knowing well how this world and its games are steeped in sin. These are the ways of this earth where she must for now dwell, Bound here until she breaks every one of their dark, bitter spells. And she walks through this world, longing for her true love, yet still humble, sweet, and proud, A pure, sensitive spirit uninfluenced by the cheering crowd. 🤍

To support a fallen Armenian hero's mother is to tend to the sacred wound of a nation, ensuring that those who sacrificed their lives in battle are never forgotten. When we care for the mothers of brave defenders, we do something profoundly honorable that God shall never forget. Lieutenant Yakov Sargsyan was born on October 25, 1996. An only child with a deep passion for basketball, he answered the call to serve his country with unwavering devotion to his Christian nation, ultimately giving his life in Shushi, Artsakh, on November 5, 2020. He left behind a grieving mother who carries the weight of an unimaginable loss. So, everyone who can help, please support her. 🤍✝️🙏 Help save Marine's life: rearmenia.com/en/fundraisers…

S’ Agapo Giati Ise Oraia, is a beloved traditional Greek folk song, beautifully sung here by the legendary Giorgos Dalaras. ♥️ I love Greek music very much and listen to it so often that sometimes I wonder if my soul remembers a time when I lived a few past lives in ancient Greece, in a distant olden age. There is something sacred about the sound of Greek music. The melodies feel spiritual, and while the lyrics are sometimes extraordinarily simple, they are also profoundly and breathtakingly beautiful. 🎵🎶🎶🎶 My best friend in high school was Cretan, and she introduced me to so many beautiful Greek songs and also to the beauty of her culture. I also had a Pontic Greek pen pal when I was a teenager, whom I used to write letters to. He used to call me Loulouthi, translating my name, Abeer, into Greek. Loulouthi means 'flower.' 🌸 ♥️ This song, especially, touches my heart because it is truly beautiful and meaningful. ❤️ 🇬🇷

Lord Jesus, my constant refuge, thank You for healing me and shielding me from my constant troubles. ♥️🙏 ​I love and honor You with all that I am, utterly dependent on Your boundless mercy and compassion. ♥️🙏 ​You are my everything, and without Your daily presence around me, I could never bear a single day upon this earth. ♥️🙏 ​You are my truest best friend, my highest honor, and the beautiful meaning of my life. ♥️🙏

Amen ♥️♥️♥️