Perhaps from the fire and the crowds, the chaos oh-so-loud. When the world is done burning, and even as deep, dark smoke rises to oblivion, the embers of hope rekindle. The scene of your departure might replay for eternity, and fear re-enacted a million times over, but ask again and perhaps it shall be given – peace for the forgiven – just as miracles lined the horizon of the past.
For all storied pasts come at a cost, and the balmy present a cover from recognition. There always is a reason, a level less than obvious to what your senses tell. For scars of the heart, these do not show; the hurts of childhood invisible to the naked eye.
Whoever said that only wanderers could be wide-eyed? I, today, saw beauty in what I’ve known – and perhaps it is more than enough that we’ve got this far; for kings and vagabonds could lay no such claim. Beauty in the common, beauty in the familiar; renew now your vision, awaken your slumbering heart.
Beauty unknown, beauty unusual – but hearts of gold should find the way. In such a bias, perhaps the truth; the world would truly be better, if we only learn that the twisting kaleidoscope moves us all in turn. Your day will come, for you, I know.
There’s a rhyme and reason to the dreams you hold, when the heart of the universe beats in time with yours.