This world will try to drain your dreams;
This world will try to find your seams,
And pull 'till your hopes turn to screams;
This world will try to take you apart;
This world will try to break your heart.


And when you're as low as you can possibly be,
When you feel you're too weak to ever be free;
When the light of hope is too far to see,
This world will try and convince you of something tragic:
That there's no such thing as magic.


The world is wrong.
Magic exists in a natural smile;
Magic exists when it was worth every trial;
Magic exists when one falls in love;
Magic exists in each and every dove.
Magic exists between the pages of a book;
Magic exists ¬¬-- you've only to look.

How to Be a Poet
(After Wendell Berry)

To be a poet is not just to write poetry. To be a poet is not to refuse to look at a computer screen. To be a poet is not to find some structured, patterned language in which to fit a thought.
To be a poet: accept. Qualia is a term that defines the unique experience of how our senses manifest. We may both agree that this text is black, but how can we know that I see the same shade of black as you do? To be a poet: accept that all perspectives have value.
To be a poet: listen. Listen to the unbalanced grating of the washer machine thrown slightly off its axis; listen to the blanket of sounds caressing your skin as you sit on the bus. Listen to the sounds and dreams of the world around you.
To be a poet: think. Think of the way the tap of fingers feel against your jeans; think of all those little projects you never quite managed to follow. Think of all those thoughts you were scared to acknowledge.
To be a poet: feel. Feel for the smiles and the averted eyes; feel for the lost souls and the newlyweds. Feel sunshine on your face, feel wind brushing against your jacket. Just feel.
To be a poet: dream. Dream and don’t stop. Dream about dreaming. Dream about running away. Dream about getting more sleep. Dream with such reverence that others start to dream again too.  
Some days you may not have a pen. Some days you may not have a computer. Some days may be bright and warm, others dark and cold. Being a poet is not about meeting certain conditions; being a poet is about finding meaning in what exists.

Swear you’ll hold her tight
From sounds that screech,
And all the things that try to reach
Corrosive claws for her thoughts at night.

She may not be able to express
The demons she faces when she dares,
So never tell her no one cares;
Just love her and she won’t repress.

She’s stronger than she’ll ever know, so
Don’t try to be just her hero;
Be the place she’s safe at zero,
And watch what wonders love will show.