I used to carry a bundle of love in my hands
Now I have hatred seeping through my fingers
My filter is clogged and I can hardly contain
The rage within, I feel like puking it all up

But I'll get over it
When the time comes I will get back up
And prove that love is stronger than hate
Just as darkness never overcame the light

I will let go of what's not for me
I'll control what goes inside me
Then I will like the words that exit me
And with love inside I will be free

Don't say:
'At last
the day is over! '

Rather:
'I'll poise myself
for tomorrow

to do better
be quieter
but stronger-
be kinder
gentler
fairer

not to let
myself down
or any other-
to seek
a new adventure
and wonder-

upon the setting
of the sun of every day:
' I've lived'
to bravely declare!'

Beneath the soft-spun green,
where stone and root rest in silence,
moss gathers itself.

It clings, quietly—
with soft shades of green,
cradling close the forgotten—
a fallen branch,
broken walls,
blanketing the injured places
left to time.

Moss teaches us to rest
in a gathering of dark places,
where eyes have no reason
to remain shut.
It is a slow healing after sorrow—
the way the world forgives itself.

Walk with care—
where moss stretches,
with a patience that heals
and forgives—
forever enduring,
forever moss.