I used to be the kind of man or woman
Who would locate magic on the bottom,
As if The key to authentic joy
was a thing left lying all around.
I’d pull it away from library textbooks
their webpages ripped and worn,
And swore which i could see it
while in the air in advance of a storm.
In the event you’re wary to believing
I’m no stranger to distrust,
Back then all I found in library publications
was the odor of moths and mud.
And Regardless of my just about every promise
that each rainbow holds anything gold.
That no-one born in history
as at any time been silent bold.
Right up until I kindness told them through my smile
that believing is the key.
You kiss cannot adjust how the earth appears to be like
right up until you change how people see.