When the path ahead is dark, find the light inside:
Believe in yourself and let your heart be your guide.
Reach out through the darkness and take my hand,
I will bring you from stormy seas onto dry land.
Keep the faith, the flame of hope alive
And, though you don't know the way, you will arrive.
Listen to your heart beating in your chest
Have you ever wondered how much you are blessed?
Feel my heart beat just like yours
That, when you are close, it swoops and soars.
What is this feeling? It's painful, and it longs.
I long to find a home, a place my heart belongs.
It's a feeling so tender, so clear and real
Could it be love that I now feel?
You give me joy, you are my life
My life is yours. Will you be my wife?
I promise to live as your love deserves:
Walking together in straight roads and curves.
I promise to cherish and protect you every day
To communicate and listen, to comfort and pray.
You have my heart, you are my life. The choice is yours to make:
Will we join together in heart and hand and take the leap of faith?

Where’s your heart at? They ask me
As though it’s not an ***** in my body
As though it’s not beating in my chest and pumping blood to my organs.
My heart can’t be followed
Because it doesn’t move without me
And my heart can’t be broken
Unless it is punctured by a foreign object.

I appreciate the metaphor, I do, I swear that I do
But sometimes metaphors get a little much
My brain is a metaphor
In the way that it thinks.
Do you see what I did there?
Metaphors run my life, run this world
But sometimes I want to shut it off.

Don’t ask me where my heart’s at
When you know that I’m broken and leaking on the floor
And yet somehow still standing firm and tall.
Don’t tell me to follow my heart
When you know that it’s my thoughts that are jumbled in a knotted mess,
Sans heart,
They’re in a different part of the body after all.

I’m tired of living my life in metaphor
At least for tonight
It’s just an excuse for me to hide behind
A way to add beauty to a desolate place
That otherwise would be of concern
And taken care of
And made permanently beautiful instead of metaphorical façade.

There’s a time for poetry
There’s a time for poetic language
There’s a time to follow your heart and see where it goes
To calm the dragon that is your mind
To walk the cobbled windy streets of your thoughts and ponder

But some days you just have to let it drop
And look at the bleak world around you, no makeup, no photoshop,
To remind you that things have to change.

Why waste time dwelling on stuff?
I mean really think about it.
It's time we enjoy the little things
in life.
Wake up and appreciate everything
and everyone.
Even if it's the simple drinking of
magnificent water.

Those turned-up, star-burned eyes,
those believers -- they mistook
truths for long-told lies,
storied pages for a holy book.

The masses yearning for a place
to fix their roaming gaze
an underworld or starry face,
a theory or a praise.

Like wild beasts who reign themselves,
they tightly bind their minds.
It’s easier to box and shelf
the whims of humankind.

What if I kneeled in a glassy church,
And prayed and said “amen”?
I’ve never touched the Holy Book,
But if I did, what then?
He wouldn’t hear my voice among
His eager sea of men…
But if He did, what then?