There's beauty in this life
I cannot resist,
from the opening of flowers
to fine morning mist.

There's horror in this life
I dare not describe.
War time atrocities
through children's eyes.

There's a lot in this life
I'll never understand.
I accept the truth of this
like a stone in my hand.

Waves wash over me,
again and again.
Waves wash over me;
my stone becomes sand.