As the words of the wise fade into the dark cold
water of distant past, our lives come to an end,
But as sure as the beating of the heart there will
be a birth of recognition, So as one life fades
into the wind of time a new life is breathed into
the soul of wind and all we can be sure of is we
live and die, but our paths our chosen by our
unspoken actions on which we rely on, to determine
the corresponding relations to our kind, and words
hold only the meaning of being said, but when said
hurts one as it holds the meaning to help another
wondering soul in the distance, and our sneaky actions
are the product of a scared soul on the empty horizon,
just as black ink corresponds to the white paper
with meaningless words, only to show that the reason
we live is to die and every positive has a negative.