Life is a mist,
And we are all rangers.
Winners blind their eyes and march straight,
like an unleashed arrow steady and eager.
The rest gaze upon the mist and grow impatient,
Lose their faith, die out, and decay.
— — — — — —
Just like trees have leaves, we have names.
And if we see a tree without any leaves,
We say it’s not worth of a life.
But if we see a person without any names,
We say it’s not worth of a lie.
— — — — — —
And the fruits of the society, we say, are beautiful,
In the Garden of Eden.
Eventually we name them and eat them,
Like that’s their only purpose.
When the first breeze of light sweep away the mist,
we see each other naked and blind and dead.
— — — — — —
Then we realize how naïve and control-freak
We are as a matter of fact.
