Not to acknowledge;
The beauty that makes you whole.
To choose to live in shadows, when you're born to be the torch.
Muse on that candle, let light aflame,
The weapon that you handle, will guide you to your aim.
A sonnet being written, defusing its disclaim;
Or a wolf in a mitten, refusing to be tamed?
A bird on the willow, singing to be cheered;
Or the sun on the meadow, disproving to be steered?
Rise with it at dawn break, and hop the train away.
Tie your hums to a snowflake, and throw it all astray.
Some days are meant for sadness, others are meant for cheer,
So lead your ways with gladness, and the rest will be here!