I would be led to dwell too heavily on
elements of wisdom or anxiety in         a
thought.
                                            well aware of the
world's enormous fund off misery, yet even so it
looked as though the status quo

is                                to
              rid                         all the hard to
understand.

but we have a long way to travel before we approach that.

The leaves that are attached to a tree, slowly moving from the wind that is blowing softly.

Leaves whom we do not think before we take their lives just by taking them away from their home, a tree or a bush.

The texture on the front and behind, deep and lime foresty green, the vessels that are highlighted by the Sun.

All they give is a simple thing to keep us alive,

air to breath.

And what do we give them in return?

No ability to grow forever, no ability to just, live.

We cut them down.

That's "thanks." to them.

Not all people hate nature or dislike it in any way, or even don't cherish it and protect it, but there are some who don't
care about its beauty and its power.

Trees, flowers, bushes, grass, they all do the same.

We only keep them alive by watering them or the rain waters them, or we simply like every human being, breath in return for
them.

Only a few realize that nature is so important and the only way to keep it alive is to protect it, but are we really,

the ones who must protect it?

It is now, but it will not be forever.

Nature lives with us now, but it can also live without us.

Not many pay attention to the beauty of Sunlight.

Many do not look, many do not care and many are scared to become blind.

But just by giving a slight glance to show appreciation towards the Sunlight.

You may feel the warmth back in return.

You may feel a slight tingle down your spine.

You may feel the happiness that the Sunlight is giving.

But most importantly it will brighten up your world.

Jesus holds us each in his palm
For we are each unique and hand crafted
Beautifully, wonderfully, fearfully made from the start
He is making a masterpiece a priceless work of art
We are a tile in the mosaic of life
An important part of a bigger picture
We are beautiful because we are different
We are different because we are special
We are special because we are important
We are important because we are loved
When we look right now it is unfinished
It is scarred and cracked and rough
But when we look upon the finished piece
We see love and light and peace
Through the years I was beginning to take shape
A gradual transformation was going on in me
A lifelong journey toward who I'm supposed to be

When you’re a little kid, the first question you’re asked is always “What do you want to be when you grow up”.

Almost as if we have a choice.

We’re told to follow our dreams.
We’re told the world is our oyster.
We’re told that everything will be okay.
Lies.

Our life is already planned out for us.

Step One: Get good grades.

Ignore the anxiety howling at your door like a tornado.
Get over the flooding depression, drowning you slowly.
Ignore the large burdens slowly breaking your back, as admitting weakness won’t get you any sympathy.
Spend your hours studying each subject for your standardized testing, getting exercise, going and doing extracurriculars, volunteering, working a minimum wage job, cutting out time for the friends you didn’t have time to make, and don’t forget the homework.
Do all this and perhaps you might pass your classes.
Perhaps you’ll make honor roll.
Perhaps you’ll get into college or university.
Perhaps people won’t think you’re a failure.
Perhaps.

Step Two: Get a stable job.



Step Three: Get married.

Step Four: Have kids.

Because that’s the only reason you’re here, right?
To leave something worthwhile behind?
But there’s only one way to do it correctly.
You spend the first two years dedicating all of your time to this squirming thing, waking up at 3:00 AM to appease it’s crying, but you don’t care because you think it’s the one thing in the world you’ll love unconditionally and you know it loves you back but you aren’t thinking about that when you’re overtired and it’s bawling and you can’t do anything and you just want a few minutes to think.
It will get better from here, right?
The next ten years are spent driving from house to house, soccer field to soccer field, recital to recital trying to fit it all in.
Never really looking.
Never really seeing.


Step Five: Retire.

Step Six: Die.

I want you to close your eyes and imagine something for a second.
I want you to wander down the twisted path of your life, until you arrive at your exit.
And I want you to stand inside the gate.
Not quite in, not quite out.
Your final moments.

The autumn has finally blown over into winter, a chill coming down your spine.
Everything around you is fading, and each passing moment feels like an eternity.
The fabric of life is slipping through your fingers, and you can’t hold on. You aren’t strong enough.
So you just want to let go.

Let’s say you are lying in a hospital bed, a trail of wires dangling from your wrist, disinfectants stinging your nose.
Let’s say you know why you are here, and you know what is coming, and you’re scared.
Let’s say that you are exiting the trail, and knocking on death’s door.
I want you to imagine the people around you, saying goodbye.
I want you to imagine your farewell thoughts.

Will you be thinking about that dream school you never got into?
Will you be thinking about your sub count on youtube?
Will you be thinking about your ****** job that just managed to pay the rent?
Will you be thinking about that year when you felt like you were all alone, and nobody cared?
Will you be thinking about all those dreams you never chased?
No.
You won’t.

You’ll remember the way your kid smiles when she’s happy, lighting up a room.
You’ll remember dancing in the kitchen like an idiot with the one you love.
You’ll remember the student who was failing until you touched their life.
You’ll remember playing in the backyard with your sister.
You’ll remember arguing over Marvel movies with your brother.
You’ll remember the crazy adventures you had with your best friends.
You’ll remember hugs from your grandparents.
You’ll remember the sound of the ocean, filling you up with joy.
You’ll remember your dad, patiently teaching you how to cook even though you aren’t any good.
You’ll remember your mom, attempting to show you how to pitch a ball.
You’ll remember the sun on your back and the wind at your feet, beckoning you forward.
You’ll remember that person who always knew how to make you smile.
You’ll remember the homeless man who laughed in joy when you provided him with a meal.
You’ll remember the confident smile of the kid with stage fright as he flawlessly recited his lines.
You’ll remember the way the trees sang their summer song in the forest, saying their final goodbyes.
You’ll remember your grandchildren’s eyes, which seem all too familiar.

And because of this, they’ll remember you.