They all come from the Giver

Often they are not understood

Even strange at first glance

But exactly what is needed

The slingshot rather than brute strength

Pen instead of the sword

Lonely desert over the bright lit city

Pain, not pleasure

Humble donkey countering the treasured thoroughbred

The gently rolling hills of Southern Indiana

Harshness of the Philadelphia streets

The loyal, soft eyed, hearted girl

Jumpshot in the rain

Every one of them is good

They are all perfect