Life has its phases,
and its time is so bleak.
It travels across the faces
of every race, rich and weak.

The frailty of hope
chases faith held inside.
Give a friend comfort to cope,
and the permission to cry.

"Whatever you do
may seem insignificant..."
to you,
"...but it is most important,
that you do it".

The quote at the end of this poem can be found on the overpass on the corner of 10th and Sherman Ave. in Indianapolis. Everytime I pass it on my way to dad's, it makes a bigger impact on me. Eventually this poem came to mind, and I jotted a couple verses down almost everytime I passed it, but this final poem is some of the stanzas condensed and edited.