The light breaks through in the morning,
restoring hope in the heart of mankind.
The swallows search for their food unhindered,
as the mist clears the sight in every mind.
Crisp and cold is the floor beneath me,
my breath makes clouds from this thin air,
as I marvel at the sounds singing in my heart.
Hope is born out of nothing else but love,
a love that is alive in every human heart.
Every new morning creates a new beginning,
every act of love creates a new chance,
and a new chance is the beginning of hope.
When hope is in the beginning,
written in the dawn of each new morning,
why then, do we search for it at the end?
When all hope is lost,
we cry out for the emptiness in our heart,
yet the hope from the beginning,
has escaped our fragile hearts.
When the red robin kisses the frosty ground,
and a squirrel plays in the winter snow,
a white world drives out every piece of darkness,
like the rising of the sun in the morning.
The song in my heart this very morning,
plays the melody of newborn child,
who laughs in the sight of innocence,
restoring the hope in my fragile empty heart.
In the night a child is born,
in the morning my heart will sing forevermore.
Inside the box,
the noose around my neck tightens.
Trying to settle in,
the small nook is too cramped,
and all I want to do,
is to leave this small space.
All eyes tell a different story,
but when they look at me,
all their stories are the same.
Stuck in prejudices and opinions,
war is either neglect,
or fight back.
Who will love me as I am?
Traditions are for keeping,
but not if they suffocate the soul.
When everything is the same,
we are in desperate need of change.
Evolving is teaching yourself to be better,
learning is allowing yourself to grow,
for growth is a never-ending story.
Inside the box,
where I am unable to grow,
I look out into infinity,
where God asks me to live,
in His divine library,
where His great wisdom,
will lead me to eternity.