Updated: Aug 23
Swallow your pride, apologise.
Take a breath before you mutter each word
use them sparingly and accurately
as if you had an unknown, finite supply.
I tell you because, like the breath,
one day we will cease to mould them
to formulate them, express them.
One day we’ll run out and all that will be left
are the sears from the acid rain pouring from their eyes
and the spirit that begs us to be brave,
and the magic that shows us how to heal,
and the heart that teaches us how to forgive.
To be the human spirit in its’ purest form
battered but so ready for battle,
thickened, but not hardened
transparent, yet firm.
Love does prevail, always.