Unplayed Strings
What good is the wave, if sails,
It awaits no means, destination.
What good is the tide,
If it rises and falls over sights of unpleasant expectations.
What good are words,
If it's origin comes from unproposed intentions.
For even, has man never danced from unplayed strings
Nor played from strings that cannot be danced of.
What is beauty,
If the beholder views from strays?
What is love,
If well known to man, remains unknown to him?
What will it be,
If time ticks randomly to unachieved desires?
For even a time enjoyed wasted is never wasted.
How do you make bridges?
Is it not by breathing while you have the woods behind?
Does not one path open a way for another?
So why does one need his ribs to make strings
When the twines are beneath his covering?
When life hovers over to inquire of you
Be sure to give it your best
For you cannot know
If your best can be best enough.
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