Pain Can Give You Sight Or Make

Stories Are Like Genies...they Can Carry Us Into And Though Our Sorrows. Sometimes They Burn, Sometimes They Dance, Sometimes They Weep, Sometimes They Sing. Like Genies, Everyone Has One. Like Genies, Sometimes We Forget That We Do. Our Stories Can Set Us Free...when We Set Them Free.

Nothing Happened. And Everything Did. Your Whole Life You Can Be Told Something Is Wrong And So You Believe It. Why Should You Question It? But Then Slowly Seeds Are Planted Inside Of You, One By One, By A Touch Or A Look Or A Day Skateboarding In A Park, And They Start To Burst Out Of Old Hulls Shells And They Start To Sprout. And Pretty Soon There Are So Many Of Them. They Are Named Love And Trust And Kindness And Joy And Desire And Wonder And Spirit And Soulmate. They Grow Into A Garden So Dense And Thick That It Starts To Invade Your Brain Where The Old Things You Were Once Told Are Dying.

Ugster Vinyl Pumps, Partridge Family Records, Plastic Daisy Jewelry, Old Postcards. . . . It's A Magpie Christmas Market.

You Must Reach Inside Yourselves Where I Live Like A Story, Not Old, Not Young Laughing At My Own Sorrow, Weeping Pearls At Weddings, Wielding A Torch To Melt Sand Into Something Clear And Bright.

I Wish I Wasn’t A Girl Who Needed So Much But A Little Free Creature That Slept In Deserts And Ran On Clouds And Lived On Lilies.