Mountains that are tall, cover the dreams
that are shallow. Valleys that are long,
are the lives that are too short,

Love that is blind, is a tragedy to eyes. Words
that are sweet, are sour to the years.
Beauty that is made, is the grief of an early
morning,

Choices that are made, is the shaping of
their future. Creatures of a thousand
breaths, are all under one Death,

Tears of now, aren’t the ones of forever.
Spirits to be filled, are of those empty vessels.
Transformation isn’t a sudden, but all a
continuous event,

All that we want to be, can all be.
The question is only,—

when?

When do you choose to move, in all
the things of life holding you back,
When do you choose to be brave, in all
the fears you constantly have to face,
When do you fix a broken world, in all
of the brokenness to be fixed in you,
When do you choose to love another, in all
of the less love they have for you,
And truly when do you make a change for yourself,
in all a society trying to change you,—

tell me when?