A promise.
My life is a promise
to those who came before us, here.
A promise of time.
Of meaning.
That all their work was not in vain;
and all their love
Their love is a promise to me,
a promise that life is shaped of beauty
and sacrifice
whispered from lips
a mothers lips,
a whispered wish that lives inside.
Inside, would I have pleased her? Brought her joy?
Am I what she would have wanted?
Has my life been worth her death?
Has my life been worth my own living?
Does death diminish all we do?
Does death diminish all our dreams?
Does death take away the meaning life can hold,
all our reasons of being?
Does death kill the promise?
Can we ever know what survives?
What survives this promise that is life, that is life?
I will awake the world!
Shake them from sleep,
from all their weeping,
from petty fears,
into a mothers promise.
And they will see again
through the eyes of a child.
Through eyes like mine.
Through eyes like mine.
What do they see?
They see you. They see me.
Theyll see a world of change
and promise.