I once dreamed that there was a stranger,
Who never saw love or knew laughter.
Fear was all that they could see,
And I saw that the stranger was me.
The fear coiled tightly inside,
And spewed anger, hatred, and lies.
It was too thick to be seen,
And it poisoned the air that I breathed.
Each person could sense what was wrong,
And silently they would look down.
Each one had a fear deep within,
That to fail to be perfect was sin.
Then Earth showed me that it’s not so,
That perfection is what makes things grow.
It’s silent and can not be seen,
And is not what many believe.
It has its own nature and purpose,
So why try to be what they tell us?
Forgive and let live with a sigh,
And suddenly you’ll feel alive.
Stop blending the darkness with light.
Stop living in fear with no sight.
Come out of your comfortable room,
And see that the stranger is you.
Poetry Copyright © 2018 – 2023 by Ena Whiteraven All rights reserved.
Photographer: unknown
The Whiteraven Net 