What is life but a fleeting thought,

A momentary twinkle in the Father's eye?

What is love but mankind's way

of making that thought, that twinkle, worthwhile?

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What is life but a long journey home,

back to the dust from whence we came?

What are friends but fellow travelers

we happen to bump into along the way?

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What is life but an intricate dance

to a rhythm set by our beating hearts?

What are lovers but dancing partners

we have with us for merely three counts of eight?

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What is life but a tapestry,

a story captured in warp and weft?

What are people but colorful threads

that embody the story and make it whole?

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What is life but an epic poem,

penned by the very hand of God?

What are troubles but tests we face

as the heroes spoken of in verse?

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What are we but grains of sand

inside the vast hourglass of time?

What am I but one young girl,

a bud that waits to blossom in its prime?