A glare into the shadows
Centered light illuminates our souls
The right to ones inner joy
In contrast with what's left in despair.
Mother nature is but observing
Lurking around us is a hideous past left
Right paving the joy to what's to come
Rooted beneath and branched out towards a choice.
Back and forth she goes, with time both descend.
It speaks volumes, but whose listening ?
A hanging mans noose, I'd not want to emerse myself
in those shoes.
What sparks a decision to end it all?
Are we indebted to our very own desires?
Sir. George Githunguri