
They may tell you
Stand your ground alone,
That this world is no place for determined people with hearts like taxi’s.
Don’t you listen to them.
Their meters have been running for too long.
Some people need to be taken on a ride like that.
Some have lost their way to shelter and have grown weary.
Why shouldn’t we guide them back?
Hearts have compartments because we aren’t meant to be solitary creatures.
We were designed for company and built to carry.
Remind them of their warmer origins.
Can you tell me what sounds better on a difficult, tiring trip than the phrase
“C’mon, let’s go home.”?
They may tell you
Paint yourself a stoic because secrets guard disgrace and people can’t hate what they don’t know about you but I would say people will never learn from what they don’t know about you.
I would say that some stones are thrown
against glass houses from the outside in;
not to destroy unashamed transparency but honest reflections.
Jealousy grows rampant as garden weeds around such houses
But those roots are not sufficient to crack your foundation.
You are strong enough to inspire sunrays to higher potency and fortify their light with positive purpose .
You are 8 years old.
When you sleep I dare not disturb you.
You look too busy dreaming the world could be better and I want to keep cheering you on.
Finer realities are first conceived in dreams.
They are incubated in the mind and finally brought into this world through the labor of our actions.
They are filtered through our intensions so
I’m glad children like you are our future.
It is wise to trust your tomorrow to anyone less tainted than yourself.
Believe you can cure your own little piece of it mamita,
Show me faith can make mountains out of mole hills,
Furnish feasts from famine and breathe new life into hearts
that have taken beatings but still refuse to give them.
When you laugh I am reminded we were all created to glow; to make our own light and share it with the world.
When you laugh I am convinced that we ourselves are how to defeat darkness.
They may tell you there are no more sanctuaries; that the panels of a lantern glow for but one master.
Believe me, we are all candles in glass houses waiting to be ignited inside and once set we shine for everyone around us
so shine on baby…
Shine on…
About the Creator
Carla Santa
I love writing

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