Francesca

Francesca

There is still room for us, in this world of woe.
There is still room for those who feel cast down. For those who feel low.
There is still room for the deprived, discouraged, disabled.
There is still room when you no longer feel sane, no longer feel stable.

Think of the artist, whose only desire is to create.
Think of the coffee drinker, running aways a little too late.
Think of the lover, who would die before picking up the sword.
Think of the activist, who grows tired in what they're working for.
Think of the dreamer.

Yet would they give it up? Could they ever tread to the shallow side?
In the realms of the ordinary, of the black and white, could they ever abide?
The earth screams! Where is the girl with the beautiful hair and the big heart?
Where is the girl who speaks, breathes, laughs, walks in art?
Has she flown away like a wingless fairie? Has she disapeared?
This is always what was feared.

The world is starving of significance, so it needs the dreamer.
It needs a rescuer, it needs a redeemer.
Just when you think, there is no more space,
When you have no name, when you have no face.
(Dear friend:)
There is still room for us in this world of woe.
And it needs you desperately. So please, don't go.