Growing pains
shatter chains
until all that remains
is sweet rebirth.

Memories
of tragedies
leave us ill at ease,
so let them go.

Hope dances
at second chances,
and gives us glances
at better days to come.

Strength sought,
sorrows fought,
and a future bought
with precious currency.

Free at last,
heartache’s passed.
A happiness cast
with our own two hands.

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One more,
please just give me one more…

One more day,
one more night,
one more tomorrow
to call a yesterday.

One more Christmas,
one more New Years Eve,
one more glass of champagne
to toast to auld lang syne.

One more company lay off,
one more awkward interview,
picking myself up one more time –
once more into the fray.

One more frustrating first date,
one more one night stand,
falling in love just one more time
before one more breakup.

One more night alone,
last call at one more bar,
one more drink to chase my sorrows,
one more kind stranger to walk me home.

One more day with depression,
one more day without,
one more day clinging tight
to my one and only life.

You put the spring in my step,
and ever since the day we met,
I haven’t had even one regret.

You put the rhythm in my song.
You make me feel like I belong,
and that feeling keeps me strong.

Because I have lived a lonesome dream,
with friends who were not as they seemed,
whose love left me whistling at the seams.

But as I stood locked in a rage,
you thundered out on my life’s stage,
and helped my heart turn a new page.

Now you stand here by my side,
and I no longer want to hide.
I throw the gates of my heart wide,
and welcome you, my love, inside.

I am the flower, the seed, and the soil.

I am the flower,
beloved and bright,
I root to the earth,
and stand in the light.

I am the seed,
my potential’s unknown,
but with tender hands,
my glory is grown.

I am the soil,
holding steadfast and sure,
and I nurture new lives
with those who came before.

I am the flower, beautiful and brave;
I am the seed, pure possibility;
I am the soil, built o’er the grave;
All these, and more, live within me.

They say you have a heart of stone –
cold and unfeeling, you cannot be moved.
But I know better.
Yes, I know better.

You have a heart of crystal –
shimmering and shining the day away.
You catch the light sent your way,
reflecting and refracting it.

The stillness that they see
is their own inflexibility.
They call you cold only because
they cannot bear embracing you.

There is a garden in your heart
that catches fire every dawn,
enraptures rime every moonrise,
and welcomes wonder every starlit night.

Every crack and every flaw
is but one more purchase for the light,
and all the scars the world gave you
add a beauty called “character”.

They say you have a heart of stone –
cold and unfeeling, you cannot be moved,
but you carry a cultivated prominence,
and your glory grows with each new day.

The world spins and turns,
seasons come and go,
and while winter is on the rise,
spring will come again.

The nascent glacial weather
will frost the fall foliage,
but snowmelt waters sleeping seeds
and nurtures new growth.

While the winds sharpen icy edges
and the days dim and darken,
the nights burn brighter
with kind-hearted company.

And as the snows pile higher,
we stay snug as bugs on a fireside rug,
laughing loudly with such mirth
that we shake clean the rafters and the roof.

And when spring finally returns,
it’s shocked and surprised to learn
that we’d carried its spirit all winter long
to greet the buds with joyous song.

I want to fall in love
with the kind of passion
that sweeps me off my feet
and leaves me breathless.

I want a love so sweet
that I dream the days away
by my beloved’s side
on cotton candy cloud nines.

I want a love so salty
that she makes sailors blush,
but who carries a depth within
that puts the oceans to shame.

I want a love so sultry
the we pass the long winter nights
like short summer days,
warm in each other’s arms.

I want the kind of love
that breaks my heart
when time, fate, or fortune
eventually tears us apart.

We are alike, yet
we are not the same.

It is more than a matter of gender or race:
whether the difference is sex or skin,
what differs without does not within.
It is only the failure of our eyes
that see a flaw where none lies.

It is more than a matter of religion or Faith:
the God(s) you believe in, the ones you won’t,
and those of us who simply don’t –
no matter what Faith you hear call,
a faith holds fast for us all.

It is more than a matter of country or culture:
we’re all children of the same planet,
and all the land we claim on it
rests beneath the same blue sky
that sees no borders between you and I.

Perhaps it is a matter of perspective:
that strength is not in the facts we face,
but rather, we can measure our disgrace
in how openly we can face the facts
and restrain ourselves from attacks.

Perhaps it is our hopes and dreams:
the glimm’ring stars we reach for
and the things that we adore
are the measure of our hearts,
and what sets us most apart.

Perhaps the truth is closer than we think…
the difference is in our hands –
whether to heal or reprimand –
do we try to tear others down,
or offer them the glory of the crown.