Falling softly, building up,
Soaking me in pain.
No hope or salvation;
Will I ever feel light again?

Without warning, no reason
For feeling this way.
It is real and it is raw;
In what game do we play?

Life's contest, our battle ground,
We face it each day.
Our destiny in our hands;
Or is it slipping away?

Our thoughts, good or bad,
They shape our moment.
We own them, control them;
Can they liberate us from torment?

You own how you are,
A solitary dancer.
Choose white, reject black;
Is this the simple answer?