Searching for a mind long lost I found it shaping colors and history near the cliffs of your heart.
Upon the lips of babes asleep I saw light embracing light and so allowed my syllables to rest there as a prayer they might sing in their dreams.
Poetry looking in the mirror sees art, and art looking in a mirror sings poetry.
This worldโs anguish is no different from the love we insist on holding back.
Even when muddy your wings sparkle bright wonders that heal broken worlds.
Millions cheer the warriorspilling blood across the ringwhile the one who stands for peaceis ridiculed and shamed.Must hearts forever sufferfrom ignorance and greed?Can bombs heal our soulsor set our spirits free?