You can see the thing as pointless I suppose -
This thing that we call life, this act of being.
But when you’re in the middle of its throes
It seems to BE the point - no disagreeing.
You can argue whether babies should be born,
You can say it would be better if they weren’t,
But surely such a world sounds forlorn,
A future without passion, ashen, burnt.
The beauty all around us is so real,
It pulls us forward in the dizzying dance.
What makes it all worthwhile is the feel
Of riding through it while you’ve got the chance.
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