Pieces.

There’s a piece of me you are not able to see.

It’s hard to grasp or describe, sometimes even for me.

But it’s real, it’s alive. It’s still blooming each day.

The whole world might be blind. It still grows either way.

Defies all logic and time. Even space or context.

Has a life of it’s own. And I bow to her grace.

I might fail, make mistakes, say the wrong words sometimes.

But she is strong, brave and kind. Proud and flawless. She shines.

Makes me humble to feel how a fragile young thing

Could gain such a power, overcome any need.

She has nothing to prove.

She’s just noble and clean.

She is whole, brave and strong.

Even sees through your lies.

She sees everything clear with eyes closed at all times. 

Still there’s one thing to learn. That we are just one piece.

There is no one more strong. There is no part that’s weak.

Stupid mind breaks us up.

I am her. I can see.