If adventures were a raindrop then journeys are the sea
Yet if it called my name, there is nothing I can answer in return
If paradoxes became paragraphs, and the present became history
Then what are the future lessons that I am supposed to learn?
If resilience was armor and ambition the sword
Then why is sacrifice the bullet rather than the shield
If prayers go unanswered as if whispers became holy word
Then what is the negation for those that yearn to heal?
Perhaps the magic in living is not the fiction tales we partake
But the small minor actions that one can be brave enough to make
If humble murmurs and mutters can shape a biased world
Then through the presence of candor may new paths be heard