The word 'life', when spoken by someone ignorant of the english language, sounds like a sigh of relief.A sigh of relief from someone who had been holding their breath in dread or fear of the future.
For me ofcourse, that was pretty much all it meant, until only recently. When one day it occured to me that life is a whole, consisting of all those moments of dread and the relief that follows.
The sigh, however, quite contrary to my earlier belief, is a sign of relief at the idea that no matter what we dread or fear, no matter how many times we must face the dreaded things, that life will go on. And we will always find happiness in other things that will keep life going.

Ants on a hill

You’ve got everything they say.
Look around you; you’re blessed in every way.
I take them up on what they say,
I look around; up close and far away.

I see exactly what they see.
I hear them out and what they feel.
But what about my heart and me?
What do I really want for me?

I see them as little ants on a hill,
Walking and working to their fill.
If by doing the same I can cheer them up,
I’ll do the drill; slog up that hill.

But what is the end I ask myself,
Will they get me to where I want to be?
If I fall down, they won’t stop to help.
Heck, they won’t even turn to see.

Get me somewhere o’ crazy rhymes,
I despise walking these ruled out lines.
Let’s break the mould and draw our own,
I’m hoping these ants will change their minds.

An open book

This funny little girl I’ve known,
Since long before we could walk.
I thought I knew her inside out,
Until one day we sat down to talk.

I thought her life was perfect,
She had no fears or cares.
And then she told me the story,
Since after we had parted ways.

I’m an open book she says,
But someone tore a page.
And with that page the binding broke
That pain will never fade.

The colour crimson left my life,
I don’t think I will see it again.
I’m not sure if I even want to,
But you know..life has it’s ways.

That little girl left me that night,
Struggling with that little thought.
I sat up until the morning light,
Startled me out of my thoughts.

I was an open book I thought,
And someone had torn a page.
And with that page my binding broke,
but it no longer felt so strange.

The colour crimson had left our lives,
I was certain we’d see it again.
And at that time we both would know,
That the rainbow only follows the rain.