“The hollow space, it can be a blessing too.”

In a way, hope is a type of courage too.

Love resides within each breath.

Speak good things into existence.

Using each heartbeat as a second chance.

But these downpours, they can all be a type of cleaning.

What is my ribcage if not a prison for hope.

And I held onto hope. Like a dear old friend.

But I know courage. It is never lost.

Even the rain could be the answer to your prayers.

You and that love you carry. Like fresh rivers. Like new poetry.

We are ever blossoming.

Some days each breath just lie stuck in your chest, you know?

Love shouldn’t be as fickle as the rain. But an ever flowing torrent.

Remember forgiveness; a kind exhale.

I think there is miracle always spilling into something.

I know the light, but I cannot see it.