Why were we placed on this strange blue planet?
We’re given one life, and we’re told to plan it
So we spend our todays preparing for tomorrows
But often, we neglect our present sorrows
I had to break out of this repetitive mold
My younger self was confined and needed to unfold
Untouched pages awaited my hands
Worlds abandoned, I returned to those lands
How beautifully unusual that our early selves
Understood some truths we have since shelved
The world taught us to be more practical
Stop being fictional, be more factual
But the world was unaware of its own horizons
The storytellers and artists slowly rising
An artist has more impact than a politician
So like laws, I write my stories with precision
Moments full of fountains, trees, mountains, breeze
I’ve been keeping count of these
I’ve been searching for who I’m bound to be
Quite simply, all I’ve found is me
This Earth and the life therein are wonderful and dark
I ponder every day about my own story arc
I look at what I wrote last year, the differences are stark
I hope I touched the world just enough to leave a mark
I spent so long debating the meaning of my art
Ironically, I had that answer from the very start
We will not know our purpose ‘til after we depart
So rather than some calling, I answer to my heart
Our words and choices in this life could echo forever
But we have no way of telling when eternity is severed
So let’s just celebrate the stories we’ve been given
Perhaps the reason we live is to decide why we are living
I choose to turn every tomorrow into today
I can find my way even when led astray
I choose to tell stories with a fierce persistence
While I absorb the wonders of existence
What’s been made quite clear through the days and years,
Through waves of tears and displays of fears
Is that we know so little, but we feel so much
Life is but a mystery, let’s live it as such
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