The beginning of love is to let those we love be perfectly themselves, and not twist them to fit our own image. Otherwise we love only the reflection of ourselves we find in them....

A soldier finds a way to come home early
To surprise his lonely girlfriend

A neighbor spends an afternoon raking leaves
To serve the elderly man next door

A brother says "You can play with it first"
To his little sister on his birthday

A student stops to hold the door
To aid the girl struggling with crutches

A customer says "You go ahead"
To the mom with an upset child in tow

A stranger does a deed for a stranger
Paying in advance for the next car's gas

These are but few of the examples
Of kindness I've seen still exist

There is good in the world
Little bits all around, if you'll take a look

It comes from those who don't judge
Who instead look at others for a chance

A chance to decipher what they could do
To help someone around them

They believe in the goodness of choice
The power of even the smallest choices

That just might make someone's day
By reminding them that people care

And that they know we all have bad days
But that they won't last forever

Because the kindness of others
Will always be there, somewhere

So work with the believers
And the fragile, hopeful wishers

The ones with the yearning belief inside
That people are meant for good

That people are meant for people
To push forward the human race

In the development of civility
And beyond civility, genuine kindness

Because really, honestly,
What can't kindness solve?

So be a source of hope
Don't think that you're not much

For even a small source of hope
Still proves that it exists

Because you might not know who needs it
Who's desperately looking for the proof

this girl asks me, "gotta minute to spare?"
chapped lips and misty-eyed
while i stare enviously at her thighs,
wishing i could taste that milky white,
sits down, touches my hand
and tells me,
"the moon is dying",
something i already knew
but i cry anyway

babbling incoherently into her hands,
brush a finger over her shoulder,
dotting freckles in constellations,
the speckled stars of her irises
combust into molecules
scatter, running freely away

oh girl, we could tread these muddy waters,
traverse the land on our bare feet
and wipe the filth off our skirts
but come sundown,
we'll still sleep alone.