April 8th

The scene was full of brilliance. Young people answering to their names. They see their light. They know their season too. This is it. See them rise, past all expected. Entering their destiny without error. Standing in rooms they own. Full of grace for all they know. Blooming on their own, like a promise made to flowers. Nothing about them without them they say. We have been patient for too long, they note. It’s our future after all, they share. See as we illuminate it our way, they finish. We stand, saying nothing all. Nothing we say matters. Not when their clouds are full of rain. Not when we watch them think outside the box.