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?


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?


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?


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?


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?


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?