you turn these still
places into breathing,
this. warm sun… how it wakes
a motion
you take this feeling in me
and turn it into a high road,
and an open life
you can't come here and ask me
to feel all this love, and not turn it
into the shape of you…
you make everything beautiful,
everything about you is
made of soul
and you say we'll find a way…
promise me we'll find our way
– butterflies rising
