The world is not pure
But the world is not pain
It's a piece that makes a whole.
To create what we live in,
A world which is beautiful...
But painful to our hearts
A meaning to which we each create
Of guilt, honesty, love and even hate.
A painful piece, a loving embrace.
Which makes the world beautiful.
With suffering intermixed,
Some are convinced this is our hell or libo.
It's our home.
To which the soul or what some may call.
The living space we share with not just ourselves,
But with other things.
Though dark may seem evil
There is no evil in just the darkness,
When in light evil resides hidden.
The world is beautiful in its own right.
Rather we wish to see it,
Or we all together push it aside
And curse our lives!
Though we shouldn't,
Doesn't it seem so?
With a world so mixed with pain
We wish it was better?
For something different?
But the world is still somehow beautiful,
It's our livelihood, our mother, our protector, lifegiver...
It holds the wonders,
It makes things as they are,
But we make thee effects,
That lead to causes.
Still the world is beautiful no matter what.