Even in grief, we can be happy,
when we suffer, it is wrong of us to concentrate only on stream of pain,
we must realize that all pain is self-inflicted,
And mesmerize the days we are given an opportunity to pass on smiles to others.
When I began composing this very blog post, I thought I'd rather continue the above to form an entire poem. I had constructed two, wonderfully put, further stanzas, but what put me off, you wonder?
Well, hate itself.
Hate of what?
Of blogging? No! That can't be. He's blogging now. He does it so great. Why would he hate it?
Well, unfortunately, and indeed, regrettably, that is the bitter truth.
Somehow, when a decision is put forward, there are two sole choices, either a yes, or a no. You can have it, or you can not. Discontinuous.
And why, is it, that the 'no' appears more fruitful? Well, because, it means no effort is wasted, and you can, by all means, become a couch potato.
Well, I'm afraid that's life.
But... (Yes, there's a but)
But... what makes us, different from life, is us. Our will power. Our ability to choose. To make a decision. To differentiate. To make a difference in our life.
One way, one path, one direction, will always look a lot easier and more welcoming that the other. But intelligence lies not in choosing what looks right, rather in what is right. What feels right. Looks may be deceiving, but you get to know that only once you're deceived.
Let's not make that mistake, shall we? :)