Look at her rise. Some are giving in because they’re not strong enough. But that’s not you. You’re the dark horse. You’re the quiet bet. The one they laughed at. Trying times will show what you’re made of. Some who seem together will go right down the river. The dark bet muddles through. You help a person or two, but you’re no angel. You’ve been down with the devil. That’s how people look at you, anyhow. But having been so close to the ground, while others were flying so high – at least in their minds – you, my friend, you got nowhere to fall. You’ve got traction. Like tank tires. You’ve got continuous track. You’ve got robust propulsion. You’re grinding in the mud. There’s nowhere to go but up. Anyway. To hell with the doubters. You’ve been nice for so long. They took it as weakness. But, friend, they didn’t see you coming. You’re the strongest one of all. It doesn’t mean you won’t fall. It’s just your definition is different. Your old partner, depression, pops around again. Asks if you want a drink. And you smile at him peering from the corner. It’s been a while since you’ve seen him there! You always recognize him. You say, “You’re why I keep my friends close – what’s left, anyway – and my enemies closer.” I don’t need a drink. What I have is composure. It’s my reward for leaving you behind, years ago now. But, you’re taking away everything, aren’t you? What you didn’t count on, old friend, is I’m a fatalist, anyway. I know the room ends up empty. So there’s nothing to fear. And every reason to feel grateful. For what’s left, while it’s here. You don’t really know who you’re messing with, do you? I see right through you. I know you don’t like me. Because you don’t like yourself. And you want to bring me down to your level of hell. Well, brother, I’ve been there. Sister, I *lived* there. I carved my initials on the wall. They’re right behind the little sneer that you’re trying to hide. But you can’t hide your hate, I see it in your eyes. When there’s nothing to lose, there’s nothing to fear. You mistook gentleness for weakness. You mistook me as an angel, when I’m only a devil who tries to be better. But I can outdark your dark. I can outrage your rage. You really don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, do you? I can see it. It’s right there in your eyes. When your devils are more afraid of you than you are of them, you come out smelling like a rose. It’s the part you don’t show. But you’re not ashamed. You’re not trying to please anyone. Not anymore. You don’t mess with anyone if they don’t mess with you. You have no idea what’s going on in here. Inside. I suggest you turn around, I suggest you go home. But you’re free to choose. I’m not afraid to die. And there’s the difference. Between you and I. I’ve died a thousand times. But it’s a little early in the day to reminisce, over those experiences. So while the world is terrified, you watch it go by. An observer. And it’s then you think of something gentle to say. You’re a friend of other devils, those who aspire to be angels. Those who get their feet trapped in the door. You see a lot of you in them. Those who have been forgotten and ridiculed. You have an empathy for them. We’re a lot alike, sister. I’ve met you before. There’s nothing to be afraid of. These things come around. To test you. To see who’s been learning, and who was too cool for school. To see what you’re made of. Do you think you’re better, and as white as the snow? Righteous and always determining who gets blame and who gets your wonderful seal of approval? I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. Take it from a sister, I know how that ends. If you don’t see the dark in your light, it’ll come up in so many other ways. Some right in plain sight! Others see them, while you’re blind to them. But it’s right there in your eyes. Let me hang with the devils who are leaning to the light. Those who see their own darkness so well, they suffer over it, until they learn it has nowhere to go. So they let it go, eventually. And they’re reborn into something better. There’s no denial or self grandeur. They might feel like a locust while you’re a beautiful bird. Funny enough, it’s the locust who survives the plague that wipes out the earth. There’s a reason for that. Whether you find it literally or in allegory. There’s a lesson in everything, provided you learn. Provided you’re paying attention to the clues. You pray to God outside you, like religion has taught you to do. You pray to the God within you, like your heart has told you to do. And that’s when you feel the salvation inside. A hint of the light. And it grows. And it grows! God isn’t somewhere so far away. God is a part of you. You’re a part of the whole creation. There’s no separating the parts. The suffering is how you learn. It’s how you grow. And it grows. And it grows even more! Nobody comes in here smelling like a rose. Well, not for too long. What’s another storm? It’s a chance to grow even more. When looking back, those are the best times in life. People are looking at you now, and they’re thinking “I got this girl all wrong.” She’s a goddess. She’s a warrior. She’s a princess. And she’s got dirt. Under her fingernails. She’s got tenacity. I should have never counted her out. She’s danced with the devil. And yet it’s how she’s become an angel. She’ll weather any storm. We laughed at her. But we’re quiet now. We close our eyes, and we try to imagine taking shelter under her. She seems made of the storm itself. She must know how it works. I’m rudderless. And she is limitless. Let’s follow her. Along, a long road into night. She’s providing a light. We never knew her at all. She doesn’t yell, and yet she’s heard loudest. She doesn’t fret, or get caught up in her shadow. Not anymore. She doesn’t get pulled to the undertow. She moves along. She’s a separate voice. Over a chorus of fear. It’s like she’s found God. Like she really knows God, and not only the writings in a book. She moves with the wind. She bends with the trees. She’s a part of it all. She knows how it breathes. She moves with the flow, instead of fighting against. She understands she’s a part of it all. The dark. And the light. And yet, she seems only made of light. Today. We counted her out. Now we’re counting on her. She’s been to the depths. And now she’s pulling us up. It’s like she is one with a secret. One beyond good and evil. She’s not afraid. She was made for this day. She is made for these times. Something in you understands. You are strength for others. You’ve seen every corner of hell. You carved your initials. It’s because of that you understand heaven. And you lean to the light. When given the choice. And the others awaken. There’s nothing like a good storm, she says, with fire in her eyes. To remind us we’re a part of everything. You are truly made of stars. And nothing ever dies. … Wow, just look at her rise. ❤️