Be, in your own way, one of those odd mystics spinning forward our new world

Shake the dust of knowing better off from your tired mind
Blink away the tears for those trapped behind their walls
Open your hands to let all you’ve clung to fall away
Strip off the uniforms and recognitions of all the groups you’ve joined

Stand naked and true, love the skin you’re in as the only identity that’s real
Feel the tenderness of your own palm and fingers, and of those around you
See all the walls for what they are — habits, just habits, whose time have come
Let your mind be a fertile soil for whatever seeds the wind may blow your way

Don’t picture them
Don’t judge them
Don’t react

Receive
Be surprised
Be emboldened
Be overjoyed

Let them sprout, let them grow
Let them show you their beautiful flowers
Then drink down their precious nectar and bring their fruit to bear

It’ll be pretty wild
But it’ll be true

Be, in your own way, one of those odd mystics spinning forward our new world

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