Coming into Yourself: The Prose of Life

Coming in to who you are,

A changing of sorts.

The shifting of pieces that make up you

The adding, the casting away,

All in the process of finding the grown you.

You strive to differentiate

Child from the adult, 

Your greatesqt longing is

Acceptance of who you've found

Yourself to be. Enjoyment 

In your friends' company. 

Peal off the mask; be not afraid,

To come out from the shell

Your little self had made.

Take my hand and journey with me.

Life is but a few words 

In this prose of destiny.

Beauty from Ashes

Let the bitter tears fall

My young one,

It takes strength to release 

The lachrymose gates.

Expel the rank emotions,

Long building in your tiny chest.

Hold not to the poison 

Of bitterness any longer.

Unlock these iron doors

That keep in you isolated in your fear;

You don't have to stay

An adolescent victim of perilous wrongs.

Out of the ashes of your pain,

Emerge into the nascent being

Steadily growing inside you.

Build beauty anew.

Be not restricted by doubts 

That so easily assail your mind. 

Heed not the scars you bear

For they are marks of what you've borne.

Step forth to your path of destiny;

It was planned uniquely for you.
~ mbw

Created for Love

Just a single whisper

Can set my heart aflutter

And cause the stomach to drop.

A lifetime of whispers,

In succession with latitudes of praise,

Can raise my discouraged

Being to believe there could be more.

More beyond the deceptions

And cruel lies I am led to believe,

Telling me I'm not worth love and mercy.

"Words cut sharp," say wise old men,

Yet actions can be just as cruel.

Beauty I find in the chaos around me;

I hold the power to choose not to listen

To the lies that surround my soul.

I can be free of the tempting whisper

Deceiving me that I'm not good enough.

I'm good enough because of who made me.

My failings and faults are not all that define me.

My identity is not found in flesh.

It is ephemeral, transcendent;

In the hands of my maker.

I am a creature created for love.

On My Mind

At the forefront of my mind
And still so far away,
These words of mine linger
As I struggle for something to say.
Some might call me unsocial,
A closed or unfriendly type,
But what they cannot see
Is how I fear being me.
I learn what's acceptable,
By what they don't say;
I see a two-way life
Marked out as my future path.
I yearn to reveal the unique me
Who resides inside this mind
While attempting to keep everyone
Happy around me.
I cannot live with this heaviness
Of all I see and hear,
Welled up inside my soul
Ready to burst from it's shell.
I may be viewed as moody,
Or socially ostracized,
But I will say these words
For I cannot stuff them
In another crag to hide.
~ mbw

Presence in the Midst

There are times of birth,

And times of death, 

A time where hate surrounds you,

And fears descend,

There will be times under heaven,

When tears and harsh words cut you,

A time when joy and kindness fill you.

A time when you're amidst trouble.

Still, he is present;

He is with you,

In every season under the sun.

Presence in the Midst

There are times of birth,

And times of death, 

A time where hate surrounds you,

And fears descend,

There will be times under heaven,

When tears and harsh words cut you,

A time when joy and kindness fill you.

A time when you're amidst trouble.

Still, he is present;

He is with you,

In ever season under the sun.