When the page stretches itself and becomes an epic
When the tear stretches itself and becomes an ocean
and laughter stretches itself to become a tear
It is never too late to reinvent, laugh, and cry
When fear stretches itself and awakens our strength
When noise stretches itself, and you start listening
and the beast stretches itself to become human
It is never too late to remember, wish, and fly
When a whisper thunders like a mighty storm
When the dove writes a poem
and the prayer becomes a lullaby
and the ink becomes a forever color
and the tree, the still lover
and the memory forsaken forever
and the sun’s rays descend on us like a hundred Julys
It is never too late to sing, live, and recreate
Then, you start looking for the Man in God.
