Self love is not love but anti-love
Parts are but to be mutually fitted
And imperfections only seeming
Ceasing to be in the perfected whole
But is not if any part seeks its own

I am words
I am notes
I am castles
I am moats
Who am I?
I can’t seem to die
There are parts of me
No one else can see
One for creativity
One for tragedy
One for the songs I sing
One for everything

We have things in our life that are precious
They are the parts of us
That make us who we are
The things we will never forget
They make us whole and leave a scar
A seed plants itself in your heart
It happens without your control
But suddenly it’s there
It’s a delicate thing that gives you joy
It doesn’t matter if it’s imperfect
But you never want to lose it
Our lives will consist of these pieces
That are like dandelion seeds
We feed them love without thinking
From the core of our being
Without just one, we aren’t whole
Why can’t we hold them all together
So that forever we have it all
Inevitably time blows like the wind
Each fragile seed flies away
We can dance around to catch them
But love was never ours to hold
It must be free to live and breathe
To create and to pass away
Every part of our soul that we have fed
That feeds us and makes life worth it
Belongs to the maker of the wind
The One that is greater than it all
Who holds everything in balance
The core that each life belongs to
That very heart of Love
Saves every smile and tear
From the beginning to the end
And is painting a beautiful portrait
As the breeze blows each moment away
So that when we look back at our life
We see the precious memories
Blessings that never truly disappeared
It starts but doesn’t end bare
Loving, remembering, painting
Until your picture is complete
A dandelion in God’s hand
With every part that made you...you