My story is not over.
My journey has just begun.
Just because one person couldn’t see my value, doesn’t mean that I am left with none.
There’s beauty all around me, but I’ve been too timid to live a life of just all fun.
But he makes it easy, he makes me want to run.
His eyes are like a supernova, right before it’s blast into oblivion.
Skin wrapped around me like the ocean waves crashing deep into white sand beaches.
“That’s my favorite thing about you.”
He says. I laugh.
Why? I reply,
“This skin of mine is flawed and scarred.”
And then, he moved uncomfortably close, and a feeling of safety filled my heart.
Kissing my forehead, his lips transferring all his warmth. He whispers,
“I love the scars and I love the flaws.
And more importantly, I love your skin because all of it is yours.”
There’s nothing I want more than to be closer to my creator. For you have shaped my skin and bone. Made every beauty mark and scar. You stretched out the subtle space between my two front teeth. You made my hair so wild, it even defies gravity, and my skin the very shade of the earth, that we walk upon.
All this, so that I would remember to love myself, never settling for less than I deserve. You made sure to send people into my life who would help teach me, patience. Molded me with kindness and fire, so that I could push through adversity. You made a rough draft of my life, crumbled it up into a ball and said, I’ll let her decide. Whether she will or will not follow all my signs.
Love me either way, but constantly remind me that really, truth and raw beauty lies inside.
The walls of all the ancient kingdoms have now fallen from grace. Our ancestors thought themselves as God and built structures and carved stone, painted sensations and wrote history in the most poetic form.
How do you follow greatness?
How do you overcome the fear of your own failure?
Do we resist it, do we remain stagnant, so that we may never fail?
Do we push through?
Persist even if the end isn’t ideal? Try, even when our outcome is defeat?
I will not attempt to be great like my ancestors, imitate any one form of art. Instead I aim to capture my rawness in its entirety and take that fire, that electricity and hone it. Then when the time is right, (if there ever was such a thing) I will spew fire with every breath I take. My fire will find its way on to paper, and that is where my legacy lies.
All that is left when I am reduced to blood and bone. The sweet soil of the earth.
All that will be left is dragon’s breath.