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Poem

One ray of light hit a brick wall,
at the speed of light I watched it fall.
All of the jealous bullets seemed to be gunning,
it hit the ground hard, it hit the street running.

All around this rusting cityscape,
he seen the homeless shuffle with no intent to escape.
He heard their rattling bones, he seen them fall.
Their dying cries, he's heard it all.

Bewildered he was in the midst of this war,
he began to dream of ways to even the score.
So, he picked up a pen and he started to write,
each and every word was so full of light.

Then many souls gathered to read what he saw,
they seemed to make a shrine out of said brick wall.
They opened their hearts to what could be done,
it was like Humpty Dumpty, just one by one.

With shining eyes, the blind could see,
everything in existence was sacred geometry.
Fibonocci was right, still Newton held the crown,
that all light shall rise, but first it falls down.

It learns to crawl, it learns to speak,
cares for the hungry, the dying, the weak.
It forgives and forgets along the way.
Just one of the steps in a lightworker's day.

If you wouldn't mind to light up your match,
this may be the surface, and only a scratch.
Yet, we'll rise to the top to fight like Dartanian,
our small scratches of light could light the Grand Canyon.

We'll satisfy their hunger, we'll satisfy their thirst.
We'll refill all their light, we'll stay 'til they burst.
The answers in our heart are meant to blow a mind,
open new doors to the light, who knows what they will find?

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