A poem...
What fate brings hearts together?
What cosmic force grinds?
What makes a life worth living?
How long will it take before lov is what he finds?
A man walks down a path,
He had walked this path alone.
But before him stretch two roads,
At the end of one he finds a home.
Inside the home is a father,
Holding his child with pride.
And beside him stands the mother,
Brushing a tear aside.
The child was born of their love,
Which sprang up from the ground.
The love that grew and grew,
With the sound of joy all around.
The family is complete,
The members are all there.
The parents watch their child grow up,
Until grey becomes their hair.
This house is one of two,
A choice one made long ago.
The wanderer goes back down the road,
And the other path he does go.
At the end of this path is a tombstone,
The sky above is grey.
The epitath is solemn,
And resounds with him to this day.
Here sleeps a man of sorrows,
One who could not shed his coil.
He lived his life in the past,
And now he is laid here in the soil.
This man could not find,
Whatever he did seek.
And thus he became lost,
And his future became bleak.
Oh those who read this stone,
Wary you must be.
Find what you need to find,
Before you end up like me.
The wanderer shed a tear,
For this forgotten man.
He walked back up the path,
And stared at his two hands.
What choice will I make?
Is what he thought in his head.
Will I be able to find what I want,
And not be alone when I'm dead?
This wanderer can be anyone,
He can be you or me.
We all have to make this choice,
And follow our own destiny.
What cosmic force grinds?
What makes a life worth living?
How long will it take before lov is what he finds?
A man walks down a path,
He had walked this path alone.
But before him stretch two roads,
At the end of one he finds a home.
Inside the home is a father,
Holding his child with pride.
And beside him stands the mother,
Brushing a tear aside.
The child was born of their love,
Which sprang up from the ground.
The love that grew and grew,
With the sound of joy all around.
The family is complete,
The members are all there.
The parents watch their child grow up,
Until grey becomes their hair.
This house is one of two,
A choice one made long ago.
The wanderer goes back down the road,
And the other path he does go.
At the end of this path is a tombstone,
The sky above is grey.
The epitath is solemn,
And resounds with him to this day.
Here sleeps a man of sorrows,
One who could not shed his coil.
He lived his life in the past,
And now he is laid here in the soil.
This man could not find,
Whatever he did seek.
And thus he became lost,
And his future became bleak.
Oh those who read this stone,
Wary you must be.
Find what you need to find,
Before you end up like me.
The wanderer shed a tear,
For this forgotten man.
He walked back up the path,
And stared at his two hands.
What choice will I make?
Is what he thought in his head.
Will I be able to find what I want,
And not be alone when I'm dead?
This wanderer can be anyone,
He can be you or me.
We all have to make this choice,
And follow our own destiny.