Updated: Jan 31

Living is not a thing, living has meaning.

The hills you mount are steep, and the valleys winding.

Your steps are unsteadily taken, but your moves fiercely gliding.

Sometimes you’re belched like smoke, or squashed like dirt,

Sometimes you’re crossed like the weather, often robbed of your order.

Living is not a thing, living has meaning.

Your days may drag on, and your nights ill-spent, Your months and years struggling, all seem hell-bent. Yet you rise every morning, live through each day, Partake in your activities, whether of sorrows or of play. The rising sun is your hope, and its setting, your victory. Life holds much anticipation for pleasure, which keeps us merry. At times your life seems so empty, yet you’ve mocked a handful, You sometimes get frustrated, but for reminders like these be thankful. They may make you feel challenged, they may make you feel proud, Whichever route be sure to choose, the one your heart’s allowed. And of course, you’ll realize -- in all this down-hilled rugged ride, There be a fortune built, in each victorious stride. So allot much pride and joy to even your misgivings, With all these ups and downs you must conclude it’s faithfully befitting. Living has meaning, Living is not a thing.

Darkness falls for a reason, as the rains pour for a season,

Although sometimes it crushes your plans, these realities keep your feet on land.

© 2004 Racquel Reece

All rights reserved.

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