by Lucinda Davidovna

Created on: January 21, 2009

How can it be

That in life so confusing,

There is only one way to be true?

For what we see;

What we think as we're musing

Affects how we act, what we do.

Some form of day

In which something is driven

Is worth more than one when it's not

Yet, in a way,

In this life that we're living,

We have to construct our own plot.

For, though with ease,

We can sit back relaxing

And take everything in our stride

This life will tease

Us with trials so taxing

And things we think we can't abide.

So as we walk

Through our days, and we run to

Horizons that stretch out so far

We must not balk

At what we must hold on to

For that's what makes us who we are.

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