Voted out,
or re-elected,
no matter who’s president,
I’m still accepting the invitation of hands in dirt,
and feet on earth.
They can’t take away the sky.
Certain things belong to the real boss,
the great force of love,
that opens flowers,
and closes them again at night.
Some are saying,
love has gone out of style,
it’s just a flippant illusion,
a fantasy.
Be afraid.
Refresh,
Refresh,
Refresh.
Unpopular opinion:
We are still sovereign over our own hearts.
You are not required to traumatize yourself.
I am not required to turn my silky blood poison with hate.
So instead,
I’ll take a moment,
in the thin morning light,
to re-establish my internal defenses of good.
The fort’s walls are constructed of hope.
The moat is filled with compassion.
And I’ll let down the drawbridge of humanity to anyone with a heart beating out the drumming battle cry for love.
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