Healing A Wound Or Inflicting A Scar

So this is what the beginning looks like. This is where your life is found in the bottom of a smelly little trashcan, next to the toilet, sticky with an old bit of candy hanging from it. You're not even sure if you should pull it out or let it go. This is that moment where I look at the road under my feet, where decision and fate seem to lose their colorful differences and blend so well that you cannot tell one from the other. This is where love and I found myself. Love's search party had all but given up hope. But it found me. It found me here.

What happens when you jump to see if you can fly? Do you drop to the ground and break your legs or do you soar without wings? I float for a moment then softly sink down, as I ponder this. Love takes notice and points me to the sky. "If you can float..." she says, "...then you can fly". So eyes lifted up in hope, I take this moment of hard circumstances, this heart which was aching with poverty, now ripe with love, and I jump. So is this love all it promises? Is it here to heal my sores or remind me of the pain? Am I delivering the songs that people hope for or just making my mark in a sea of graffiti?