Life,

Borne on white wings,

Yet easily turned to darkness,

Strong, yet fragile,

Gentle, yet rough.

Life,

Tested again and again,

Weathered by time,

Coarsened by pain,

Turbulent, yet smooth is this ride,

It depends on what lies behind glass eyes.

Life,

Meaningless to some,

An eternity of treasures to others,

Its worth is not in its length,

Not in the way it was brought to be,

In the end, what matters to me,

Is that it was spent wisely.