Thank you for allowing me to play my part.
To be Big Brother—protector, guardian, anchor.
Thank you for the strength to stand between fists and fate,
To shield my brother, to save his life—more than once.Thank you for the courage to rise in the face of violence,
To protect my mother from harm.
Thank you for the inner fire that moved me
To step between strangers, to stop the harm.

Thank you for the grace to stand for what I believe in—
Equity, dignity, and truth—
Even when it cost me comfort,
Even when it left scars.

Thank you for allowing me to play the rebel—
To challenge what I was told was truth,
To question the stories, to disrupt the systems,
To learn beyond what was given,
And defy the rules that tried to cage my spirit.

Thank you for letting me play the victim—
To feel the weight of unmet expectations,
To cry over broken promises and silent betrayals.
To find empathy in the ache,
And compassion in the collapse.

Thank you for allowing me to play the addict—
To numb the pain, to chase escape,
To fear both the emptiness and the ecstasy.
So I could awaken from my slumbering suffering,
And reclaim the parts of me buried beneath the high and the hollow.

Thank you for allowing me to play the sex worker,
The actor, the performer—
So I could witness how many seek touch
When what they truly yearn for is connection.
So I could learn that performance is not always pretense—
But sometimes a bridge to deeper truth.

Thank you for allowing me to play in finance—
To learn the ins and outs of systems,
To understand value, scarcity, and wealth,
And to discern between those who *have*
And those who only believe they are without.

Thank you for allowing me to play the thief—
To take what wasn’t mine,
Only to one day feel what it’s like
To lose everything I once held dear.
The comforts, the memories, the photographs—
Gone.
So I could learn the difference
Between possession and presence,
And the sacredness of what remains.

Thank you for allowing me to stand against all odds,
To let the fires of injustice burn away my impurities—
So I may rise from the ashes in clarity.
To know what I need,
To know what I want,
And to become the bridge
Between those two polarities—
Of mind and body,
Desire and devotion,
Wound and wisdom.

Thank you for teaching me that a clenched fist
Solves fewer problems than an open heart and mind.

Thank you for allowing me to be the dream weaver—
To witness others in their fullness,
To help build bridges to their wildest visions,
To create paths for their becoming.

Thank you for allowing me to serve as caregiver—
To purify, to cleanse, to heal.
Not just once,
But again and again—
As the fire, the water, the wind, and the stillness.

Thank you for allowing me to be the healer—
To bring laughter into the heaviness,
Lightness into the shadows,
And harmony into hearts—
Through guidance, presence, and energy.

Thank you for every version of me—
The warrior and the wanderer,
The teacher and the student,
The lost and the found,
The broken and the reborn.

Thank you for the chance to remember who I am
By showing up for those I love—
With sacred fire in my hands,
And peace in my heart.