Living Light
When we are made of mystery,
Having in us that same light
From which originates our essence,
And,
When we have abilities and opportunities
Thrust unto the open palms of our hands
Does it not become a must
To make of ourselves
An emblem on this fallen Earth?
Can we not paint smiles upon drained faces
Or imbibe hopes in desperate souls
Or even fill empty hearts with unrhymed poetry?
Why,
Can we not write of our stories
As we make of others,
Kings and Queens in their own rights
And being thereby,
Their light,
That which they shall always keep looking up to
As the ones who bid them
To open their gaze to new dawns
And to paint twinkling stars in the
Darkness of the night?
To be a living light
Is an opportunity lying there,
In our hearts, minds and souls
And all we have to do is
To wake up our dormant power
And use it to its fullest
For living as a selfish shadow
In an uncertain world is certainly
Not worth it!
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