August topic: What's worth dying for?
In the morning the milkman delivers the milk, the postman delivers the post and the paperboy delivers the new papers, everything morning they get up to deliver these items to people around the country.
The bakers make the bread.
The bus drivers take people where they want to go, driving through the streets of this world helping people get on with their lives.
The banker.
The builder.
The teacher.
The child sitting on her mothers lap pulling faces at the person opposite them on the bus. The people who stack the shelves in supermarkets late at night, the farmers and, the window cleaners, even the bullies in the playground.
Those poets and playwrights, lyricists and directors, those people who change this world for the better or for the worst. There is something about humans, they are smart, inquisitive, and most of the time they screw up when they try to do the right thing. But that’s so human, we want to better ourselves and in the end we want to survive.
The dog in the park, the child in the playground, the mother giving birth and the father crying on his daughters wedding day. They are all people and they are all special in their own rights. Each one of them perfect in ways that no one else can be. They are unique and nothing seems to set them back for long at all.
Those we love those we hate, those who have come into out lives only to move on to something else, those who we have yet to meet. The boy on the street corner waiting to cross the road, the grandmother nursing her first grandchild.
It’s not what’s worth dying for but who, who is worth dying for, and in my eyes it’s every single life form on this planet, every human, every creature. Doesn’t matter if I’ve met them or if I ever will but I’d put my life on the line for them, just like I have so many times before.
The bakers make the bread.
The bus drivers take people where they want to go, driving through the streets of this world helping people get on with their lives.
The banker.
The builder.
The teacher.
The child sitting on her mothers lap pulling faces at the person opposite them on the bus. The people who stack the shelves in supermarkets late at night, the farmers and, the window cleaners, even the bullies in the playground.
Those poets and playwrights, lyricists and directors, those people who change this world for the better or for the worst. There is something about humans, they are smart, inquisitive, and most of the time they screw up when they try to do the right thing. But that’s so human, we want to better ourselves and in the end we want to survive.
The dog in the park, the child in the playground, the mother giving birth and the father crying on his daughters wedding day. They are all people and they are all special in their own rights. Each one of them perfect in ways that no one else can be. They are unique and nothing seems to set them back for long at all.
Those we love those we hate, those who have come into out lives only to move on to something else, those who we have yet to meet. The boy on the street corner waiting to cross the road, the grandmother nursing her first grandchild.
It’s not what’s worth dying for but who, who is worth dying for, and in my eyes it’s every single life form on this planet, every human, every creature. Doesn’t matter if I’ve met them or if I ever will but I’d put my life on the line for them, just like I have so many times before.