Wishing we are someone else,
Is to deny the very selves we are,
For we make our own paths,
Which only we can see, from within
Ourselves, as ourselves, and
In seeing, create. We each forge
Our own path across this earth,
In our own time, never to be
Repeated, and no matter what we
Will, our path is our own, for
Better, or worse, til death do us
Part, this is the truth, the way,
Our way, each to our own, never
Completely at one, forever
Searching, blind except for hope,
Maybe the next mountain will be
Our last, verdant green valley
Lays just beyond, one more obstacle,
Just another flavour of life’s
Righteous passage, we choose the life
We live, we choose the home we build,
We choose the friends we take
Into our hearts, and we make our own
From all that we see, hear, feel, taste
Around us, for this is our way, our moment
To shine, even in the darkest
Loneliest corner, there is a glimpse
Of love’s light shining, through the
Harshest soul desert sun, beating down
On us, sapping our energy, bleeding us
Of anything remotely close to that
Humanity, the cloak of insanity
That we call reality, forever blinkered by
Belief to true sight, clear view,
But this is our path, our way,
And we should be happy, for
It beats being bored. 🙂