Who are we to say
that a love is not to be?
That a love does not belong
and can never be set free?

Who are we to think
that a kind is not our people?
That a kind is far beneath us
and will never be as equal?

Who are we to feel
that a face can look unusual?
That a face must be a canvas
and be painted to be beautiful?

Who are we to judge?
To say love is prohibited?
To think below of others?  
To feel minds can be limited?

©

As the wind is removing the sunflowers
From Septembers' chilly breath,
The sky seems open to star parades,
But your life feels like a mess.

When you walk across some circling road
With problems too scary to mend,
When the entire world works against your dreams,
You're in need of a comforting friend.

When your life lies in ashes,
You can't restore it by a tear.
But there is a place for you inside of my heart,
And you're always welcome here.