What was made
was made able.
We will rise
becoming stable.
Sweat and tears
tear at the seams;
whisps of kindness
help sew dreams.
Drawing us out
to fight the fight
where we see
our heart’s delight.
This is called passion.
When your work is driven
by fervant gestures
giving splendid vision.
The world conspires,
sometimes roadblocks.
Forcing us out of cars
into fields we must walk.
Here to there
we walk perspiring.
All while mocker’s
eyes come prying.
It’s no joke,
making our truthes.
We have feelings
and bleed red too.
All the same
yet all different;
things we do
to survive in spirit.
When forces grab
holding you back,
lift your chin
don’t even react.
A foot in front
of the other,
clear a path
within discover.
That we all
turn to dust.
Live in ways
with no rust.
There will be
times of doubt
sabotaging gears;
strike it out.
Let warmth
define you so
your passion’s
capacity grows.
