If our hearts were forged anew by all these funerary fires, burning away tough realities
If only light would render us right with love for each and every one
If the flames were to scorch our shame, until what is left remains together-
A beautiful reflection of soldered pieces of color
The searing would singe us newer, cleaner, more clever
And our mournful dirge would end its musical score with no more edits
It doesn’t make perfect sense… but it might. Like a bee flying, on and on it might go, defying nature and her laws.
We should defy our nature.
We should allow this inconsolable pain to change the boundaries on unity, let hope stretch out her hands and cradle each of us in a land where we choose, carelessly and carefully, to flout opinions of what we think toward another.
We can try differently.
There are 365 days, and 365 new chances. (Each heart a part to play in mixing the colors.)