Glory to the sacrifice that happens in the hidden night, the silent acts of selflessness for which a nation fights.

Yet ridiculed and condemned for changing a 50 year long cycle, far too worn in to be seen as anything but spiteful.

Lost in calculated measures never possessing any direction, still terrible are those who work to make the right corrections.

Holding on to ridge tradition that's forgotten it's own place in time, never fully realizing that it had crossed it's own imaginary line.

Knowing is the key to flowing with the winds of change, even though to many might see it all as strange...we cannot deny the only constant, the certainty of change.

Lose not hope my friend
For even the butterfly was once a caterpillar
Today it flies around with pride
Displaying it's wonderful hues and incredible beauty
But not too long ago it was a creepy crawley
So remember you might be crawling today
But some day you shall soar
So keep trying and don't give up
For all good things in life take time

When people learn how
not to hate in the name of
love, Spirit breathes free.

From nowhere

Like motes in the air

Notes begin to appear

Ethereal to the eye

Soft as the sigh

Of breath upon your face

Gliding over your senses

You feel their touch

Origin unknown.

Whether a force of rage

Or state of grace

For a time

You each occupy the same space.

Words can touch your heart

Or destroy your soul,

Obliterate your being

Or leave you whole,

And though the author

You cannot see

You get to know them intimately.

Though the origin of the author

Is often unknown

When words are shared

Your not alone.

the devil does not roam
these blackened rooms
his is not the voice
that booms
and screams
from stage
to wall
in joyous tongues
recounts the fall
then rise to grace
the pulse
of life
that loves
not hates
music flows
from heart to mouth
letting all the demons out
here acceptance
blooms again
and we remember
we are kin