I have much to think about, much to gain.

Smelling the petrichor in the gleeful air,

A sense of pride in my veins.

Meaningless and Meaningful things,

Both an inch apart.

Yet both so different, like two works of art.

Standing in front of the tantalising horizon,

Staring back at me, as though it were encrusted with rubies.

Dissatisfied, the Sun vanishing into the sea.

We for one don’t know who we are,

Who we will be, and want to be.

And there is no one to teach us, that we can all agree.

The irony of life, so beautiful yet so agonising.

Love, a word we should use more often,

Yet it is seldom spoken.

Hate, a word with a powerful,

Though a terrible meaning.

But then why is it so common?

I think we know enough of hate,

And not enough of love.

I think we know enough of grief,

And not so much of joy.

Make this world a beautiful place,

A place worth to live in.

Then see when the magic happens,

And life comes to meaning.

8 – F