Light in the Dark


When all seems without hope,
There is a light that can be seen.
Atop a slipíry slope,
And through the most blackest ravine.

Hope is not this bright star,
Hope is an illusion, you see.
This bright star might look far,
But itís right next to you and me.

Revel in the pleasures,
Riddles this life and birth doth wrought.
Pleasure beyond measures,
Before deathís gift is brought.

The path is not easy,
Yet the journey is not that hard.
At times cool and breezy,
And littered with hope that rocks have scarred.

To get there, all you need
Is to listen while senses flair.
Experience will breed,
Leaving no room for your despair.

This light is not a place,
Nor is it an object or thing.
Through a touch it will trace,
In the darkness, an opening.

This light is perception,
It comes upon you every morn.
Sensations deception,
From which a deeper peace is born.

Through birth we were given,
The most wondrous of all gifts.
From first breath weíre driven,
For sensations in life that lifts.

This gift, of which I speak,
Are the sensations that we share.
Nothing can be so bleak,
As to never have drawn the air.

Even moderation,
Should be held to its place and time.
Lifeís for exploitation,
Living for the most is no crime.

Without living extremes,
How can we appreciate them?
Without dark, no light gleams,
Without rock, thereís no gem.

Through sensations comes joy,
Can never be taken away.
These things none can destroy,
While held in this temporal stay.

Experience the most,
During your brief time here with life.
Through this, our fleshy host,
In sensations this world is rife.






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