My Voice

And I wonder, right now, who's out there.
Who is out there gazing at the stars?
Who is out their reflecting on their own souls?
Who is comparing the waves of the ocean to their emotions and their lives,
realizing that these waves that seem so large and powerful are but ripples in the vastness of the ocean?
Who are the dreamers, awake in their beds, lost in the power of their potential and their starving desire to make change?
Who are the wanderers, peaceful in the silent awe of the beauty of the world around them?
Who are the ones who share these pieces of my own heart, my own mind, my own soul?
Who are you?

She stood on the roof
And peered out at the stars
Wondering, if she jumped,
If she’d make it back to Mars.
Is she a woman
Or maybe something else?
She never quite belonged
Or understood herself.
She closed her eyes and imagined
She’s from some other place,
An anomaly sent
From the other side of space.
She felt the stardust brush
Her fingers as she soared;
He saw her flying through the sky
And his faith was restored.
A feather from her wings
He hoped to steal
To prove to the world
That angels are real.

She always was a wild kind of thing.
She was a child of wonder, of existence, of scrapes and bruises.
Ambitious from the start, she felt the world was hers for the taking.
But, oh, how that world took her.
It beat her, cut her, tore her pages away piece by piece.
She came unbound.
She lost her stories and was left with blank pages.
Who am I?
I don't know.
Who am I?
Stop asking!
Who am I?
I am...unwritten.
Who am I?
I am...anything.
Who am I?
I am strength.
I have to be.
Pandora ripped out her own heart and sealed it up inside a box.
You don't belong anymore. You're no good to me now.
And, with a kiss, she hid it in cold darkness.
No one will ever find you here and I'll be safe.
Oh, but little girl, no one is safe from the world.
A grave robber stole that little girl's heart and held it ransom.
It was his favorite plaything and he kept it for many years until its very beating drove him to madness.
Take it! He cried. I can't hold it any longer! Take it!
He threw it out but she couldn't catch it in time. The box fell and shattered, leaving her heart in the open. Vulnerable.
She scrambled to pick it up but was too slow.
A man bent down and held it there in his hands curiously.
He looked at her but she hid her face in shame.
Guilt overwhelmed him and he tried to return it to her.
But it wasn't hers anymore. It was his. She couldn't grasp it.
Something about her caught him. So he held it there in his hands.
Slowly, she uncovered her face.
As her eyes looked into his, something caught her attention.
Something was sticking out from his a pocket. A letter? A page? A page!
She reached out to grab it and he put up no fight. He had nothing to hide.
It was a page from his own book but...it looked so familiar.
The longer she looked, the more she remembered. She remembered a page of her own. The story so much the same.
She pulled out her broken binding to try to sneak the page into it but he caught her.
When he saw that broken bind, though, he felt a familiar kind of pain.
He took it gently and placed his page inside.
It's yours now. They're all yours now.
He reached into a bag hanging from his shoulder and pulled out his own battered binding. His pages were there but they were torn and stained. But she thought them to be quite beautiful. She gently pulled it from his hand and read it page by page.
Who am I? he heard her whisper.
You're mine. he whispered back.

If we want to change society - if we want to change the WORLD, we must change how we educate our youth. We are not the ones who hold the power of the future in our hands - they are. It is our duty to ensure every single child is educated and prepared to save our world. Teach them to be robots in a classroom - accepting and regurgitating the information they're given without questioning it and that is exactly what they will be as adults. Robots who go through the motions and accept the media without question. We must raise our children to question everything - submerge them in hands-on learning that forces them to THINK, not just memorize pointless pieces of information that they'll forget within a week or two. We must engrave in them a deep desire to understand and learn - we must fill them with a never-ending thirst for knowledge. When we educate our children in this way, our world will bound ahead in ways we have never even imagined. It all begins with the children. It must always begin with the children.