i save the best thoughts for myself,
never to see the light of day,
never to be heard by anyone,
tucked away in the silence of my innermost self,
there to dwell, securely.

right next to them,
the worst ideas stay, too,
the ones that bring ridicule,
or would if i let them out,
but i dare not.

and though i think of them as safely tucked away,
they are at war with one another,
fighting to be entertained,
striving to be the thoughts that take prominence,
and always trying to get out.

and i cannot tell them apart.

grace came to me,
not as i imagined,
but disguised as mercy.
in a smile and a nod,
a warm embrace of which i believed i wasn't worthy.
it took time to accept the truth:
worth is not how i hold myself,
but how others hold me.
and when i hold myself worthy of them,
and honor their view,
i see grace and beauty in its truest form.

old music from my childhood
plays through the speakers
as two sets of hands reach
for branches on the tree.
hanging ornaments again,
it's been too long.
this time is different -
and in so many ways,
it feels like at last i have come home again.

i dreamed a long time ago,
of love that could be found in the small times,
the wistful smiles,
the glances and quick-witted moments,
that was about the daily living,
and lived for the experience of just
living.

then came lies, deceit,
and living only for the big things,
the grandiose,
the exceptional,
and the focus became about those huge things,
and the small was lost.

now, i search for the small things again,
and maybe the occasional large thing,
in the hopes that living can be done,
in both the large and small things,
and get back to me.

it was dark, once,
cloudy and rain-drenched,
cold and lonely in my world.

then there you were.

food was tasteless,
it held no joy to me,
i forgot how to smile.

then there was you.

there was nothing but a hollow shell,
a marionette,
a pantomime of life.

Now, there's you.

and it will take me some time yet
to get used to you -
to accept that which I thought I would never see again.
but I know I'll do it -
because now, there's you.

nothing but squawking,
deafening madness
of unchangeable ideas.
unceasing,
resistant to all efforts to silence
a past that no longer serves the present,
and cannot serve the future.
why can't they see and grow?
they drone on,
a greek chorus of inane rants
about things that have been overtaken
by the endless march onward.
and i am forced to listen to the magpies.

the wind comes,
it beats against you -
a tempest that hurls invisible waves
like thundering horses in your path,
and you have to choose to swerve
or to press harder.
the wind doesn't care what you choose.
no one does.
they should.
what you choose matters -
it makes your life,
and ripples through the lives of others.
you only have to make the choice -
to batter back at the wind
or change course.