“Do not be afraid”,
The poet said.

“Come, follow me,
Take my hand” he urged,
As he stood on the burning bridge.
“I will guide you into places
Where you have never been,
To see sights that you have never seen”

And guide us he did,
This wonderful man,
With words and rhythms
And rhymes and reasons
That we had never heard,
The lines of which we had never learned

And when he took us home,
At the end of our long journey,
We felt refreshed and alive,
As if the sky had washed us
In a way it had never done
Whilst we sang a song we had never sung.

And this poet even put us to bed
And he watched as we dreamed
Of worlds we had never seen,
Of words we had never spoken,
In a way we shall never forget
And with a love that we shall never regret.

And the poet said,
“Do not be afraid”

Two years ago I would be terrified.

Sitting alone in the dark,
A bus stop on an empty street.

My hands are under my legs,
Im not cold.

Ive stared at a yellow light,
I imagine its hue as the sun
It feels warm.

Sounds of faint wind whistles course from one ear to another,
I smile and take a deep breath in.

Here where I am sat, I belong.

I close my eyes and imagine what will come of me,
What will come of me?

The Artic air, the sinister setting complete a tranquil mind.

I have accepted all odds.

I am not scared.