"I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you." - Song of Myself, Walt Whitman
Above all else
celebrate yourself.
Sing your song.
Dance your dance.
Show the world
you are alive and kicking
despite the chasm of nothingness
you’ve defied with chance.
You don’t need a pat on your shoulder.
You don’t need permission to
nor a certificate on the wall.
You are one of a kind
innumerable, immeasurable
a thunderous, rapturous squall
that enlivens this world
however the cards fall.
Don’t wait for the right moment.
Don’t hesitate or demurr.
Go. Go now.
The door is open and waiting
for you to show the world
what you’re made of
who you truly are.
Put on some purple stockings
Step outside
walking your imaginary iguana
and celebrate yourself
the fact you are here, right now
the fact that you count and are
essential to this world’s functioning
and fruition, its continuance.
Go. Now.
I’ll be outside waiting on you.
Come. Let’s dance ‘til
the sun expires.
Celebrating
you and me.
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