I’d like to borrow your soapbox. Please.
There’s something I’d like to say.
Communication is born of sounds and movement,
Born of ideas.
Much slips through the fingers, slips away.
Evident in crumbling fixtures
Not always so clear on smiling faces,
Can a salty tear bear sorrow?
It is the overflow.
Don’t hurry to swipe it, hold it.
Hold. Love the broken ones.
Love the one at the edge of the chasm,
Don’t walk away.
Love the one dangling by fingertips on the rim of misery’s well.
Love the forgotten, the unplanned, the wounded, and
Love. Your. Enemies.
A deep dark thought shouts its revulsion—Be silenced.
Remember under darkening skies that you have felt mercy in drops aplenty
Or in waves
Remember you are more than someone’s mockery and abuse,
You are worth more than the pile of barbed insults you cling to and harm yourself with.
Harsher than a burning acid, it steeps
Warping its winding way to treacherous unrest.
Sleep in heavenly peace, love.
Love your enemies.
Pitch Selfish to the backseat sometime and take a U-turn
For this one, for that one.
You know them.
Find them and love them.
Life is too short for you to sleep
Dream wake forget rush rush
Sleep dream wake forget.
Every being in the grand scheme
Holds a finite number of days.
Are you living
Like your days are numbered.
Life is too short for me to sleep and dream
Wake, forget and forget
That everyone has a goal,
Every being has a story,
Just as real
Just as emotive
Love, love, love,
You think I must be joking
What else is the meaning of life?
Double the damage and a heavy pack of smoldering grudges never did the world
Who are we to forget that others hurt?
That love conquers all?
Let your ideas be communication,
Be a gesture of unconditional loving.
Thank you for your soapbox.
Thank you for this moment of your time.
I would want to share this with you, dear,
If I only wrote once.