Of what use is my existence with a mere daily singsong of hope
When the awful night forbear to pass away, I perverse ill rope
When the light put on airs on the hill, no springs attached
Dove glides away, now I worry less of being attacked
Because we are all caught: strangers and aliens
Watching from an unforeseen blur lens
Of life laying lifelessly before our eyes
Of course, we await not furnace ice
When life promise not serenity
We're scattered in obscurity
Some found pacific stead
That blooms instead
Of anguish eyes,
Clouds pitiness
From the wise
Contrariwise
Hope is found;
As the rock I fond
As I have expected
Where it is not planted
Since I know life is worth living
I'll look up when it is time of leaving
the ephemeral pleasure of life and its thyme
Let the waves proclaim; it is not a waste of time
I have tasted both good and bad; till I'm grasped alive
I live even if not up to the fullest of what I expected of life;
"Felicity fill here, may I stay forever" As it is, only one thing left
I will never forego hope, clasps as if telling a lover "you're my depth"
Even in pain as I close unfulfilled life page in death, I do not resist saying;
Of what use is my existence with a mere daily singsong of hope while dying.