becoming

thing is though
the sun comes up
every morning
and it’s beautiful

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Naked Still before the World I Stand

Call me naive.
Call me a hopeless dreamer.
Call me a stubborn product
of a childhood in the nineties,

flimsy and irrelevant
to the world as is.

We were born into the world
as naked as our emperors,
standing on the shoulders
of giant fairies
looking far
towards a future
that would never come.

Forgive us
for we share not
your cynicism,
at least not in our hearts,

and we still believe
in the
naked and complicated
beauty of a snowflake
rather than the
simple and comfortable
sizeable power
of a snowball.