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!