Kisa Soul is the soul your soul needs.

I’m at my neighborhood cafe. It’s early for a Sunday in Mexico.

The streets are quiet. Trees slowly sway from left to right. Cyclers in tiny shorts pass by. Dogs with their sweatpant owners, too. Two older ladies in matching zebraprint outfits. A pretty couple talking softly on beanbags, her legs curled up on his. They giggle. The sun’s slowly breaking through the fluffy clouds.

Opportunities come to me
Doors open before I knock
Because I’m tuned to the frequency of flow
I don’t chase, I receive, I expand