For not dying, when I very, very much wanted to die 8 years ago.
For not dying, and surviving, and thriving, and becoming a fire of every colour,
a story that will not go out,
an extraordinarily ordinary marking machine,
a hundred thousand function charts and deepest fears,
a dragon of a lion-tiger man-woman boy-girl whatever-whatever,
a little orange glitch of flame in the dream of a boring, tedious, lonely island.
For loving, when I very, very much do not want to love,
when people make you responsible for their fears
and their mistakes
and their insecurities,
and distort your image
so that they can maintain theirs;
for kindness, for charity, for what would I do if I was in your shoes.
For always being ready to go barefoot,
even if it means my feet run red with stars.
And for you.
Because you love the way I do,
even though you deny it,
you refuse to admit it,
you fear it.
Because you fear the mirror,
the water,
the dreams,
the sun:
and I am the mirror;
and you are you, you were always you,
and you fail to understand that I am merely here
to tell you what you already know.
To be proud, as I am, now, yesterday and tomorrow,
to be all of yourself.
For there is nothing like the rain that falls after the fear subsides;
and nothing, nothing at all, like the rainbow that dares to become a bridge
into the beyond.
And know that no matter what you do to me,
whether you bring joy, or pain, or fear, or sunshine to my life:
I'm proud of you, so damn freaking proud, always,
whenever you have the courage to die to your fears, and live for all of you,
and fight everything about you that is human and profane
to become everything about you that is human and divine.