You...

You...

You, know who you are. You wonder why you're here, on earth, what's the plan for you, why were you born.

You wake in the night

and your mind runs,

for minutes sometimes, but also hours,

usually as a busy train station,

skewered direction, all at once concentration

then none at all.

A flower in a lump of dry dirt,

or a bull in a slice of escape,

you wonder of space and stars in the dark,

you feel alone in your place of alone.

You know there's a place for your need to fly,

but there's always a net in your face.

Your you cries out at the redundancy of our system,

the politicians and mechanics of this mayhem.

Because your you is the gem of us all,

the lighthouse of truth that runs in veins of ours.

Born of the born and pure as the prints on our fingers,

you, different as all snow flakes,

yet common drops in all oceans,

you are we, yet you.

You know who you are,

and as that, and all that is,

we can not be harnessed as a tool for them.

You are not a slave.

You are you, a being who knows there is change in your head.

You know the change is within you,

it will never be found on the outside.

You, is the power from within,

you is not mythical, but it is the magic we are born with.

You hold the power to move mountains,

all keys are behind your eyes.

Never look to the outside for help,

you are the engine of release.

You are what you feel is wrong,

and you are all the change.

You are the power of the future.

gjh 2009