Have you ever looked
At one of your best pictures
And asked yourself
“And where have you been hiding
All along?”
Or perhaps found yourself
Suddenly capable of holding your tongue
Though it squirms in your mouth,
Or pausing a moment
To let someone else win
For once,
Or taking a leap of faith
When you’d sworn to never take a chance again.
The best versions of ourselves
Are in there somewhere,
Sometimes buried by insecurity
Sometimes buried by our immaturity
Sometimes by self-sabotage,
Nonetheless, the life within
Remains.
Often hidden
Waiting for the right moment.
Many of our days are like trees in winter;
Containing great potential
Yet having little
To show for it.
Do not estimate a man
By his appearance
On one of his cold days,
When you find him
In the winter of his soul
In the freezing of his hope
Because come spring time,
When his hour has come
And the season has changed
The life within
Will render him a magnificent creature
You will scarcely recognize.