Breath
A breath,
A whisper of an azure butterfly's wings,
As delicate as the first footstep into the warm, golden air of summer,
The disappearing shine of dew in the morning.
And a smile
A bright swipe of paint on a blank canvas,
And an everlasting handprint on one's heart.
People are constantly pushing.
Fighting.
Shoving.
Holding back our angry tongues only half the time.
Crumpling up others' ideas and thoughts, photos and pictures, as if they were a waste of paper,
Or they sit folding your ideas so that they are twisted,
No longer the perfect mirror of our beliefs,
But a cracked display of others' unimportant values
Because the others are stubborn
Their hearts set on the wrong path,
A trail of unbelief ready to stomp down
On our butterflies.
Our shining stars.
And our morals.
But with one breath,
One whisper of faith to the wind
Can make of ourselves a permanent image,
A positive image of what is important.
No longer a mangled display of what everyone thinks we are,
Like a drawing that was redrawn,
And redrawn,
And then erased
And erased
Because someone couldn't decide on how they wanted the piece to look
But instead shape yourself with a permanent line of confidence.
And if they do not look
And do not pay attention
You can always choose who to listen to
And who to set on mute.
But they will listen
And they will see
And discover how much your care sings,
Sings of the revelation of how the world can change when somebody changes for the better
And that it all starts
With a single
Breath.
