The moon listens,
to the ocean's sigh,
both distant,
yet eternally destined.

Waves caress my feet,
ever so gently,
wind murmurs words of love
to me,
the sun kisses my soul
so warmly.

Within this ocean of affection,
my thoughts tremble,
but my heart yearns
to drown deep,
lost in the ebb.

What is the value of a life
Of a husband or a wife 
Of a daughter or a son.

Do these labels give value to one,
More so over the other?

Is a wife less valuable than a mother,
A father more valuable than a son?

Does value rise or fall
as one becomes another?

Surely every life can't be worth the same!
Can it?

 I wonder.
Is a peasants life,
of less value than a kings!

Or does Status, Creed, Race, or Color,
truly, not mean a **** thing?

It is true that I would place my
wife, my son, and my brothers
life over that of another.

But that value is given to them only by me.
No life is worth more
than any other in reality.

Yet until we can open
our hearts and minds to see.

The true value of life will never be!

It was the day you felt so awake,
Looking so weak—too tired to fake.
You spoke of dreams, but not with cheer,
You softly whispered, “I’m going, dear.”

Maybe you were shedding silent tears,
But it made my heart break, pierced by fears.
No final hug, no reason why,
Just aching silence in your eyes.

And then you disappeared…