Everything handed to us was secondary. The stars were not to align. The sun was not to shine. Love was not to be shown, but somehow we survived.
Life is free, but we were prisoners stuck in a reflection that was given to us. If we could count the odds, our breath's would be weak.
Visibly we were worn. Torn goods, exhausted from a journey pulling us down. We almost drowned. We wailed. We moaned. We groaned and then our sound turned into gold.
All of a sudden we sang. Rejoicing in the name of hope. Our reflection changed. The brushes we used to paint ourselves, were colorful, beautiful, and bountiful.
Full of color, we found energy from a source that lifted us. We learned that love runs deeper than the threads of our enemy.
We fought with spirit and with passion. And all though the force continued to pull us downward, with every pull, we flew higher.
Space was created. And with the distance, we excelled.
