All is quiet on 5th street tonight
too much, too soon, a bittersweet disaster
He lost his composure
she lost a friend
and I'm tired of talking third person.
I summoned emotion from the grave I left it in
but it came at a greater cost than it was worth
To feel an ocean of love
with nothing but deserts to spread it over
while those who are thirsty scarcely catch my eye
I threw a treasure down a well
And I want it back.
The thing about mirrors is
if you don't see a reflection
it's not really a mirror.
Sometimes withholding information is
an act of aggression.
And of all the things I deserve,
I didn't deserve this.
“You deserve better,” my center tells me.
And I do.
From that grave, my love abounds in new and different ways
Friends have talents I've never noticed before
Kids have songs to sing I hadn't heard
It's easier to speak love to those who deserve it
though I'm new at doing so
I turned older this week
and among those who remembered,
a favorite friend inscribed
“we are more than our ideas” on beachwood,
quoting me to myself,
words to live by all the more.
And I will be more than my ideas.
I will love in new and more vulnerable ways
I will share with those who will share in return
I will hope for brighter and more peaceful days.
Because I am more than my ideasAnd it's time for my life to live up to my ideal way of being.