elevator
We don’t have to be who they were.
We don’t have to stay grounded,
we could float off to a far away place.
We could dance on their graves.
Someone will like you whether you are a good person or not,
the only person you can change for is yourself.
Hold my hand while you push me down,
laugh and scream, we’ll fall to the ground.
There’s dirt on your knees
and this time it’s from me.
Soiled; you won’t come clean.
Immersed in infection,
you will develop this disease.
Time is a face on the water.
I want to write,
these words are filling me to the brim.
I don’t want to share,
there’s no room for me here.
So much, yet so little, has been “happening”
I’m not sure about the decisions I’m making,
but I won’t pick now as the time to care.
A wise woman who was traveling in the mountains found a precious stone in a stream. The next day she met another traveler who was hungry, and the wise woman opened her bag to share her food. The hungry traveler saw the precious stone and asked the woman to give it to him. She did so without hesitation. The traveler left, rejoicing in his good fortune. He knew the stone was worth enough to give him security for a lifetime. But a few days later he came back to return the stone to the wise woman. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, “I know how valuable the stone is, but I give it back in the hope that you can give me something even more precious. Give me what you have within you that enabled you to give me the stone.
Reblogged from Break The Chains
