It doesn’t matter to me what colour the sky is today
and if there are clouds that I could peek above

and see the sun smile. I don’t care if God is real,
if a script could prove the existence of the divine,

for all I can know is an evolving truth in my heart.
I’m not bothered if I’ve missed the target, any threads

of if my purpose, my dreams, goals weave into anything
that could be considered wise or socially acceptable.

I’m just going to do the best I can to be real, to let myself
be vulnerable and in my own way find a firm footing,

my own land to plant myself on, water the seeds
and roots of a life I want to live, how I want to live it,

to love it, and over time with care, with attention
to let myself blossom. What matters to me is to persist,

to remember I am the narrator of the stories in my mind,
the beliefs that gather together to make or break my life.

I carry a torch, a light we are all given, our own flame
to tend to within. It’s time now to stoke my fire,

to whisper myself words of love, of kindness,
strength that matures rapidly in a voice of love

that’s fed, nourished so it may be a quiet voice
but it has unmatched clarity, the ultimate strength.

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