In all of us without exception - and that's the beauty of it - there's a bit of spark, a bit of dust.
In me and you alike there's something beautiful we can trust and something awful too, a terrible truth to lie about. There's colour and life till blindless and stillness strike.
In us and them, there's all and nothing, no doubt. The question is merely what's in and what's out.
Hang in there, I say to myself even if you feel like an old book yellowing away on a shelf. Hang in there, I whisper to me even if you feel like an old leaf hanging half dead from a tree. Hang on, I say, don't let go.
You're alive and that's bliss
be grateful for light and joy but also for pain and woe.
Everyday,
everywhere,
there's a chance for us to give.
When we choose
not to look,
not do dwell on it,
not to think, so we can live,
our lives may carry on,
we may believe we get somewhere,
we accomplish what we want.
But happiness, bliss, true peace inside?
Not a chance.
Not until we give with joy and pride.