Soar

How is it that we love?

Tired and plain, all we do is run more and more.

Through fires and through plains of muddy grasses of woe and toil.

How do we love in this war torn, drugged up, bought and sold

environment.

With bullets flying and noises filled with crying.

How is it that we find love

to share and to hold and mold

to appreciate and to grow old with?

How is it that we are alive, we are happy?

How?