I’m still waiting for the day
In which every drop of sadness will
Be interwoven into the textiles of eternity.
My pillow is no longer a pillow, but a puddle.
It’s a sponge that guzzles my tears,
It’s a pillow with the will to consume.
All the while the wisps of wildfires keep whispering:
I’m unworthy, and afraid.
They say my life is in vain.
But they lie, oh they lie,
Because what they don’t know,
Is that I am the wildfire.
I am a firestorm,
So bright and irresistible,
So untamed.
The heat is unashamed,
And unstoppable. The fire burns for peace –
It was born for peace.
So not even death, not even hate,
Will have a say over their stay.
For I am a dreamer – I am a freedom-seeker.
And all the ones who say otherwise are only feeding the flames.
You don’t need power, prestige, or fame.
Because to fight for peace, you need nothing more than a name.