To the telling of the truth.
To stories still untold.
To the uneasiness of honesty. Letting truths slowly unfold.
To the clearing of my closets.
Of people, not just things.
There’s no clarity in clutter, and my house is now scrubbed clean.
To the man behind the curtain,
The ties have since been cut. I’m no longer your plaything.
You worked so hard to bring me down.
My voice you tried to stifle.
But no one tells me who I am. My self is never idle.
These boots have never steered me wrong.
And walking they sure did.
Out the door and far away from bullshit gone unbridled.
To the mess that settled after you.
The debris left in your wake.
I’ve repurposed all the litter. A stronger foundation I have made.
To those that cheered you on.
Kicked when I was down.
Karma is a bitch my friends; tends to slink slowly back around.
Teacher’s just a role you play.
Integrity out of reach.
For character is thinly veiled when you don’t practice what you preach.
To those that mocked my vision.
Popularity your goal.
It’s harder work to look inside and share what’s in one’s soul.
To those that spread the gossip.
The truth you never see.
Your thoughtless words describe you more than ever they will me.
To all the bricks thrown my way.
Mostly from behind.
I turned my bruises into the force that guides my state of mind.
To my fuck it bucket overflowed.
Gifts that kept on giving.
I removed the shackles I freely wore. A new story I have written.
To friends that stood behind me.
Cushioning the fall.
My heart may have been broken, but my spirit never stalled.
To unrelenting loyalty.
To unexpected tribes.
Your faithfulness stood steadfastly with the turning of the tides.
To those that showed me kindness.
No agenda in your thoughts.
My gratitude forever, good vibes cannot be bought.
To the stillness in my practice.
That saw me through the storm.
Embracing transformation over pressure to conform.
To the grace in waiting patiently.
For time to heal all wounds.
Forgiveness never guaranteed, so best to not assume.
To the power in a purpose.
Teaching truth and not the trends.
A harder path to follow when means matter more than ends.
To outcomes not expected.
Misfortunes turned to gifts.
They led me to this home I found; old dramas are not missed.
This story mine to tell.
The ending up to me.
To bridges burned, lessons learned and serendipity.
To the pages not yet written, I look forward to the tales.
To peace uninterrupted when my truth inside prevails.
To old acquaintance now forgotten.
To flames that long since died.
I raise a glass of kindness to moving on and days gone by.