When I stop to question why I bother to survive
in a world hell-bent on destruction and dying
I don’t have to travel far
to see the smiles or feel the scars
to ride the highs of excitement and joy
or wallow in the depths of disappointment and sorrow.
For all around me are excuses to be
whatever we want or expect to become:
the rich, the poor, the sickly and well
the humble, the prideful, the angry and lustful.
And whether or not I agree with their choices
I acknowledge their right to choose.
Looking into the “eyes” that surround me
wherever the place, whatever the time
These are the reasons for all of the seasons
Life to be lived without rhyme or reason.