This World

This world contains no simple metaphors
Perfection is a mine that has no gold
At times our progress comes through bitter wars
At times we know our stories won’t be told
This world is life; it ends with death and pain
This life begins with beauty in our birth
We fill our lives with love, our life’s refrain
Our choruses are words that tell our worth 
The way we treat each other is the way
Our lives become a symphony, a song
There is no grand conductor to obey
We hear each other’s tunes and sing along.
Compose a life of beauty and you’ll find
this world becomes the volta you’ve designed.

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