The Fire Is Where We're All Born

All the most beautiful things are pulled from the ground.

All the most beautiful things are made in a fire.

All the most beautiful things are hit again and again.

All the most beautiful things are shaped with hard hands.

Nothing about you is ugly.

You are made of the most beautiful things.

The Sound Echoes From Room To Room

In sacred halls they'll keep you, and whisper if you listen: Every heart sings a secret song, softly, in your ear.

The First Sounds

Before language, there were only sounds, and we had to tell each other everything we could with nothing but the noises we could make with our mouths.

What sound could you have made for, “Look at all these lights in the sky. Isn’t it amazing?”

What sound could you have made for, “My chest hurts when you are not here.”

What sound could you have made for, “I am hurt, and I am slowly pouring out of me.”

What sound would you have made for, “I do not have a name for the feeling I have when I’m with you, but it is a feeling that I never, ever want to end. Please don’t go to sleep forever.”

The Notes Etched Along Our Arms

Why would you take all the skeletons out the closet?

I remember the music still trapped in their bones.

I could've hummed it for you.

I could've sung us to sleep.

The World Takes Tiny Parts Of Us

Every day you should ask yourself,

“What is the most important thing I could be doing today and why aren’t I doing it?”

And then be prepared for the answer to be,

“Being patient with my soul, being kind to my heart, and being ok, with being me.”

The Sky Will Be Filled With Light

One day, our ribcages and our skulls will burst softly open and the truth of who we all really are will float out of our hearts and our heads.

And you and I, we will truly see each other.

Perhaps for the very first time.