Reid@YWP

Where do all the ideas go; where do they come from? I wonder, staring at a blank, bland document. A great tree of life, sparkling above, forever tucked away, just out of reach? And then the leaves rain down. There!

In the cocoon's embrace, hope takes flight on fragile wings, Like a brushstroke of color, the butterfly dances in the wind. 

They flutter through fields, spreading hope with every gentle breeze. 

There is a world,

it’s time to remember it.

We aren’t the only ones 

inhabiting this planet. 

As we frack

the world cracks,