PassionforPoetry

Even if I don't own the matches that set the world on fire, for the beauty this world owns that sets my soul ablaze, let every tear I cry in the midst of chaos, be ink to write, creating meaning instead of destroying it. Like a tiny flower growing out of a crack in the cement, I know hope still emerges even from a dark place. I remind myself as tears run down my face that while the world's on fire, tiny flowers are emerging from the flames—all is not well, but all is not lost, and those tears will tell a story.

Everyday, I dance in the rain, but god only knows the last time I basked in the sunlight. I can feel the sorrow beneath the laughter, like a piece of heaven's been cut off from life— a once exoctic flower that's now losing its vibrancy. I could cry at the memory of when life felt alive, and the world seemed bigger than hate and fear. I don't know if I outgrew that world, or if hate, fear, pain and suffering just grew up with me, but I have too much to give, to only just get by.

When I was a child, I used to chase the sun. As I ran and ran towards the light, I didn't realize that I was really just trying to capture that moment in time; my outstretched hand was a wish that this happiness would last forever. I can't unsee the truth now, the ugliness hidden behind the curtain of humanity that is us. But I also cannot stop hoping, which is sad, because as long as there's hope I can't stop, and I really want to. This moment in time won't last forever—it never does, because the truth is we are also what's beautiful about humanity. That's why, even though I never caught the sun, I'll never let go of hope, even while I lay in a pool of a single tear.

Dear Sun, even as they collapse the sky, tear through the cosmos, and try to fit the universe in a teacup, I know you'll still be there, stunning, like a precious gem, —refining us with your embers ablaze spectacularly across eternity, that maybe one day we'll realize fitting in was never the universe's cup of tea.

To Grief, Betrayal, and Heartbreak, i.e. pain that only comes from having the audacity to love, you might be a fate worse than death, but what's better proof that we lived― when we're all fated to die―than the fact that we loved? To endure such pain, yet still look up to that one speck of light amidst the storm, it doesn't make me feel happy it makes me feel human, something that can feel the best and worst and live to greet death. I've never been more painfully alive and perfectly human. I love that I love.

Warm blankets and steaming cocoa Icy crystals falling softly down Nights are long, perfect for reading a book Trees covered in a dusting of pure white Everything is quiet under the snow Reflecting on the close of the year

They say kindness is weak, and I don't care if they're right because in our pursuit of strength, we people made of stars, lost our light. So, I'll be weak and shine like the sun.

If this is the last time I write about you... You told me to look to the sun that will always rise; I looked, and you were all I saw. I can't forget you, but I can remember you, because I still love you too. I'll hold what was ours in my dreams, where we were so precious. I know I'll write about you again, just not the way I used to because I still love you too, but you're not the sun anymore.

I found light, by confronting the dark. I confronted the dark by choosing not to look away. When I chose not to look away, what I saw broke me, but I stayed. I had to learn not to glue back the pieces, but create something new. What I create may never compare to what was broken, but with the bravery to accept and create inspite, I'm creating a tomorrow that's umpromised, and unlikely, yet in its little possibility is still so beautiful. I don't know what keeps me going, and I don't know what can or will make me stop. Maybe the light I found was just the light I have inside, that despite everything refused to die, but I know nothing lasts forever. So, 'til forever never comes, let me keep facing the dark and discovering my own light, knowing light always breaks through darkness, even if that darkness breaks me.

A country in turmoil An imposter sits on the throne From the moment he takes office Stripping our rights away like a banana Leaving us slipping on the peels Trying to figure out what the Hell to do. Workers vanish from the crop fields, who will harvest the produce? Pulled from WHO and essential health research, how will we know of the next pandemic, let alone saving lives from cancer? What about the funds that help schools and veterans? How will people pay for education, let alone their groceries? What about the safety of LGBTQ and diversity with no protection in the workplaces that don't tolerate discrimination or to get a job because of your nationality? How will anyone get by if he keeps making monstrous demands? How will anyone survive the onslaught that's to come? How will anyone tell what's true or false when you can't believe the media? How will anyone face tomorrow if there is no tomorrow because of him? How will the country's future pull through with him behind the