So you hold a certain anima
in your eyes
in your sway
Envious, it isn’t mine
to behold.
You’re bold and on your way.
Does it matter
when we’re circling back to dust?
Circling round, again
and again
mocking magazine stars
and newspaper cutouts.
We’re turning to stone,
never adorning the homeless hearts we’ve sewn.
Winged beings
were destined by design
to soar
above the mountains
grounded by the sandy shore.
Hold your anima.
Glimmer as the sun
paints colors in the sunset sky.
Hold your colors
in your soulful eyes
like you did before
coarse builders planted their
iron roots over your head
drinking up all that they could get.
Beloved, you were meant to fly.
Paint with your glimmer.
Let yourself rise.
Dawning Creations 
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