Truths
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It's not really late to say
I know now.
How flowers grow,
How earth is moving
How you are moving
How I am still.
And still I look
For signs,
Long exposure trees
and shadows
Freaky black things
Looking
Beautiful
diamonds against red and blue
green
Sometimes it HurtsTo Live in a Bright LightVirtue and KindnessAre Lost to the Pain
Look for an AshlightAnd find a Middle-GroundBecause You can't always be RightAnd You can't always be Wrong
Drip-drip, pitter-patterA steady pace to punctuate a thoughtTurns to a down-pour with a crack of thunderAnd a single thought becomes a roar
i believe in the magical qualities of snow,the healing powers of my mother’s cooking,the emotional aftershock of a good book,midnight rants about the world,
It's just not about the dates or the facts that follow. Reading thousands of pages. Finding the truths in all the words written hundred year old pieces of parchment. It is about all the lives that were impacted.
They presume themselves great
They see themselves as masters
Twisting words to their design
It doesn't work that way
It sounds hollow to the tormented
And they can't help but question
"Who are you
