Life is a ballad, a dance of fire,
Colors swirling with good and evil.
Elements swim in the world of chaos
To form a picture of death,
But it is colored with laughter, and beauty, and stars, and light, and magic, and life.
Where is the joy that should adorn our faces?
Where is the love that should fill our hearts?
Where are the colors that paint our ballad?
Pain teaches us laughter; hate teaches us love; suffering teaches us peace;
And death teaches us the value of them all:
The worth of this life,
The privilege of being alive,
For what is one without the other?
Though stars are light, and kings and queens of their galaxies,
I am more.
I am wonderfully and beautifully made,
With a mind containing the skies,
A heart reaching beyond the heavens,
An incomprehensible force of good and evil and choice.
I am human – valued more than a star,
The price of me is blood.
I heard them sing a short little ballad, soon ended, soon forgotten;
But ever circular, ever repeating, again and again and again.
The fire of life will always dance, and if we do not look closely enough, or watch long enough, All fire will appear the same.
We are given a picture of death and the colors of life,
And I will not color in the lines.
You will see by my picture – when I am done – that my ballad is messy,
A dance of fire with colors swirling.
Do not turn away so quickly.
Look closer, and you will see a masterpiece.