A Perfect Image

Everything is going well, looking forward to living a fuller life, burying the not-so-happy past under the ashes of turbulent days... willing to forget all the hurtful ways. With thoughts and pen ready to create, new lyrics for songs and verses for poems; who ever said that life can't be grand? Don't assume I stare at the hourglass, counting every flowing grain of sand! Honor and glory were not expected, but I accepted them with gratefulness; and they are not the gods I bow to, I pray to a real God, who always dwells above the unreachable realm of blue. The gladness of being alive and thankful has made aware how I greedly clung to my estranged, dark world... with people passing by, never saying hello; did I ever wonder why they were so distant and cold? Why didn't I share anything with them...only glorifying my ego? Pride can be achieved by willingness and stride; and it has the loveliness of very delicate lilies, which an unexpected wind can suddenly taken away, to never bring them back to the scented, open meadow, and be picked by delicate hands to adorn a lovely home. So desperate to excel, motivated by desire and passion, to go beyond the unexplored and find a perfect image of that peaceful soul living on a deserted island, where Man has never left any imprint of his intellect, or imposed on land and fowl his invasive foolishness.