To what end does one live their life?
To burn slow and soft,
Like a candle burning softly in the night,
Or fiery and bright, a wick at both ends.
Which is the choice, a short life,
But burning so bright that the night around fades,
Leading the way for those who cannot yet see,
Or to slog through the nights,
Following those who burn bright enough,
Clearing the fog on step at a time?
Should one sacrifice themselves
Just because it was asked,
Or hide simply because they were scared.
At what point should one question that what was,
And wonder to that which should be?
To see that what we have now
Need not be what those later will be left with.
To what end should we live?
To burn clear the smog of tonight,
And let those that follow after proceed as you kneel
Beside the road,
Unable to continue that journey which you started,
Or to skull and hide,
Ignoring the very air that poisons us so.
To what end?
KAMU SEDANG MEMBACA
Beside You He Walks
PuisiWhen I write, I feel like a wolf, Howling to the moon. When someone reads, I feel like they too, Are a wolf, howling to the moon. And although we are world's apart, We are together still-- A pack of wolves, Howling to the moon.
