At the core of the themselves is the warm lavender heart,
Simple and straight-forward by nature
But subject to cracks if it hit from unanticipated angles or unto pressure.
It supplies them with the lifeblood as they proceed through the cycles
Which all organic mortals must--
Vulnerable at every turn, collecting this and that,
Forming calluses that clog the passages back to the forgotten source.

This is when their lives go awry:
When they look through the cataracts and latch onto the baggage
That mires them down into the thick murky bogs--
When fear and darkness run them.
This is when they quake instead of dance rhythmically to their own song--
When they become a smattering of the effects of incidents,
Rather than compare a patterned collage of their true colors.

Equipped with the pearls of collective wisdom.
You can see through the haze and foil your enemies with forgiveness.
Armed with the courage of mighty bears,
You can stand boldly and laugh in the face of fear.
Supported by the durable pillars of faith,
You can persist against incalculable odds and sustain unspeakable tortures--
You can persevere.

This is when they mend themselves:
When they call upon these symbolic allies and braid their strengths into their disabled lives,
Licking their wounds and settling them straight again--
When they've been rejuvenated.
This is when they flow, freely and sincerely without awkwardness,
Instead of hesitate and disguise--
When they carry forth their banner from the morrow of their bones
Through their unique skeletal structures, out to the waiting world.