Samantha Syrnich TLC

Author Archives: Samantha Syrnich TLC

About The Hand Behind The Phoenix Quill— I’ve lived many lives within one — some born of light, some forged in fire. Each left its mark, and in the ashes, I found my voice. The Phoenix Quill was never just a name; it became my heartbeat — a place where pain turned to purpose, and truth was no longer something to survive, but something to share. I am a poet, artist, advocate, and storyteller — guided by a love that refuses to die quietly. Through words and imagery, I tell stories of resilience, of rising when the world says you’ve fallen too far. My work carries pieces of the people and places that shaped me — veterans, children, the voiceless, the forgotten — and the fire that demanded their stories be heard. Every poem, every painting, every creation under The Phoenix Quill is born from that promise: to turn heartbreak into healing, to honor truth even when it burns, and to remind others that they, too, can rise. This is my life’s work — to give voice to the silence, hope to the weary, and beauty to the broken. Welcome to The Phoenix Quill: Words Born of Fire, Inked in Truth. Where ashes become art — and every word remembers how to rise.

by, Samantha Syrnich TLC

I am not made
for static.
My soul—
a tuning fork—
was carved to hum
with the song of the spheres.

But somewhere,
in the ghost-years
before my first cry,
they changed the dial—
shifted the pitch
of the world’s music
just enough
to sever the sacred.

A440,
they called it progress.
But it was a silence
masquerading as sound.
The old resonance—
A432—
held healing,
held heart,
held home.

You see,
frequency is medicine.
It is memory
in waveform,
truth in motion.
It is the invisible bridge
between beings—
a pulse that says:
“I see you. I hear you. I am you.”

When two matching waves
meet in love—
they double.
Energy surges.
Constructive.
Alive.
This is why
you glow around some people
and crumble around others.
This is science,
not softness.

And when mismatched?
Destructive.
A cancellation.
A quieting of truth.
The ache of being misunderstood
by someone you wanted to resonate with.

So I ask—
no—
I call
into the field:
I need resonance.
For my breath,
my balance,
my becoming.

I need those
who remember
how to hum with the stars.
Those whose creative chaos
syncs with mine
like twin flames flickering
in rhythm,
not rivalry.

Because vibration
isn’t just a buzzword—
it’s creation itself.
It’s the womb of the cosmos,
the whisper of water,
the heartbeat of healing.

I tune myself daily
with the words I choose,
the prayers I breathe,
the boundaries I keep.
Every thought—
a wave.
Every choice—
a pitch.
And my body—
a symphony
waiting for harmonic company.

So if you’re out there,
singing in 432,
echoing truth in quiet revolutions—
know this:

I am here.
Still vibrating.
Still reaching.
Still medicine.
Still music.

And when we meet?
We’ll double.
And the world will remember
how to listen.

⸻

Artist’s Description:
This piece poetically unravels the science of constructive and destructive interference—how matched frequencies create synergy while mismatched ones cancel each other out. It weaves the historical shift from A432 to A440 Hz into a larger narrative of spiritual suppression and vibrational healing. Frequency is not metaphor—it’s memory. This is a reclamation of the body’s right to resonate, and an invitation to align with others who carry creative, harmonious medicine.