Thin enough to see the stars, yet strong enough to balance the sky, are dreams of weary wanderers, and their hope to one day see them fly. Such hearts of pain, yet still such love within them burning ever on. Such burdens bared and demons slain as every darkness burns to dawn. Such storms that rage in times of calm. Such peace that thrives through what doth rage. Such tears of loss. Such tears of joy. Such need to write another page.

The darkness is pressing, insisting to control. It seeks to devour each morsel of soul. It knows the right tactics, and it knows the right wounds, using both in its effort to keep you entombed. It caresses your heartache, and feeds on the tears. It enhances the sorrows, the pain, and the fears. Sometimes it is sly, and far too often ruthless. It convinces you so that you just cannot do this. But, it only shows that in trying so hard, that there's more to your strength and your courage by far, for such effort would not be required on its part if you weren't so strong in the depths of your heart. Only in desperation does it rage at you so, to distract you from fighting with misery and woe. The anger that comes with the losses inflicted is also a part of its plan oh so twisted. The more love we have for our wishes and dreams only causes the darkness to rip out more seams in our hearts often broken, stitched so many times due to wounds so inflicted by dastardly crimes of the ones who are in it for what they can take, and by those who don't care how they cause us to ache. But, the darkness can only destroy all it will if you give up the light that is burning bright still, in your heart, beneath scars, as it cries out to be what can heal every heartache, causing darkness to flee. The power and the magic reside in you still, and they wait for the moment when you've had your fill, when, through tears, through the sorrow, it quickens your soul, and the darkness loses every ounce of control. The fire is burning. Let it grow. Let it rage. Let it melt the emotional bars of your cage. The moment is nigh, and the power is yours. There is beauty to come. Let the victory be yours.

The time has come to redefine. Become the you you are inside. Don't let the chains of doubt and fear enslave the passions you hold dear. Don't let the things you think you need overshadow what your soul doth bleed. Take heed...proceed to redefine. Let passion and purpose realign. The time has come for you to be much more than fate or destiny, for what's to come and what's to be is up to you. You hold the key.

My fingers are nothing but elongated raisins,
raising the middle much higher than all.
Sometimes they twiddle about for no reason,
and sometimes they close upon heart of palm.
The felony jealousy of cantaloupe melons
will tickle and pickle the cucumber vines,
but be it mater or tater,
not now,
not later,
will these elongated raisins be other than mine.