Your Heart Knows the Way Home

Your heart knows the way home,
Your heart knows the way home.

Like a single white feather with splotches of dark
Worthy of noticing its enchantment yet frayed,
Like the wings of a fragile butterfly on the road
Soul begone from this hatred we made.

Like a fallen petal from a drooping sunflower
And all the other green things that grow,
The fresh air clogged with pressing stormclouds
Consequentially the pretty petals fall like so.

What will become of one another if we continue
To break down the beautiful twists and turns?

Knowing what is right, what if we built us up more,
Even if that just means breaking us down less?
What if we built ourselves up more,
Even if that just means breaking ourselves down less?

You don't need to swell your glory,
Yet you don't need to be selfless.

Money doesn't have to consume us.
Fitting in doesn't have to drive us.
Our body doesn't have to dominate us.
Our thoughts don't have to lead us.

We so often forget that
There's a choice.

What if we trusted our heart?
What if instead we let our heart lead the way?

When every dollar and glance and extremity
And thought tells us never to believe the truth
Of course it still stands true.
It is the truth, after all.
It stands true.
Quietly, it stands strong.

Your heart knows the way home,
​Your heart knows the way home.