Another poem with no name.

A former master at jackal language, trying to be more like a giraffe.
It doesn't matter so much if they are insulting, or how hard they laugh.
Listen to what they are really trying to say, if necessary ask.
No need to be brash, show you're up to the task.
The key is to stay in control, a goal to reveal the shackles and masks and to find a better path.

Instead of down below, looking at things from up high.
Then combining them both, to help describe.
Be open to what they think they know, and peacefully try.
It might be in vain, they might have already made up their mind.
Though you can still explain, the reasons why.
And others might notice and subscribe.
Or at least think about it and have their perceptions widened.

Plus you're planting seeds.
Some day they might break free.
Planting seeds.. Planting seeds.
With roots that grow and reach.
Love and fear.. Love and fear.
These qualities tangle into each other to be near.
Misery loves company, but so does happiness if you're wise enough to see that clear.
Sometimes I just want to be alone though. All is one here.

Growing and sprouting new beliefs.
Trying to figure out what this means.
Like a flower or a tree.
Branching out towards the light to meet.
Me.
To meet me.
Growing towards the light to meet me.
Going towards a brightness from the cracks in the concrete, I breath.
Unevenly, wobbling.
At first it's difficult, still hobbling.
Not stopping, a will to persist.
Getting stronger, reforming from within.
Reflecting outwards.. It's getting time to begin.
Calmed by the wind.
As the sun glints.
Colors changing.
Given gifted hints.
Everything rearranging.
Then we do it all over again.