Serenity in self, like a star burning in the atmosphere
is neither calm nor is it simple. Despite its looks.

A shadow does not simply 'want' to be dark
it is a requirement, otherwise our secrets would show.

Facing down your own problems is not bravery,
finding a stranger and asking "how can I help?" is.

This blank [      ] is your life. No, it is not 'empty'
It is simply free to be filled with whatever you wish.

When taking into account exactly what we are....
it is amazing we... think, cognate, live, feel. Everything.
And yet, we are simply just a sum of our parts. Much
like this poem is a sum of characters on a screen.
Dead, in-animate, un-moving.
And yet, it is alive, and others like it have the power to move.

What is life, and what defines a right to give or take it?