The world I live in is quite my own. There’s no crowd of emotions or commotions typical this age would normally see. My choices have no power to change me. There’s peace in every piece of my day, of my life. Ramifications I avoid by rejecting the notions of how things ought to be. Nothing I can blame but me. I seek help from within. The origin is in the self—of a good deed or sin. Thoughts simple never jeopardize the day. A healthy amount of irritation, frustration, hate. They keep unneeded things at bay. There are neurons, therefore memories. I keep what matters; others scatter and fade away. There’s power to forget what need not be remembered. There’s wishful thinking to add more to that number. This heart, it is pure as can be. It has seen many lives cry. It cries, even dies once in a while. Pain is felt, but is also dealt with. This heart, it is free. Soaring higher than every moment before, it gains lessons. The mind upgrades. Darknesses of the past are traded for the light a present brings. The force of love pushes through, equally invincible. It lingers about, embracing the soul. A fire within is kindled, mingles with ideas. An art is born. The whole now is thankful to prizes of the past that remain within. With the setting of time, life has risen.