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When the music stops —what do you hear? Do you hear the sound of laughter —the ring of triumph in the air? Or do you give ear to the silence that follows after the joy is done Do you listen to the sadness creeping once success has passed?
When the sights pass —what do you see? Do you see the beauty of the world you're in —the flourish of nature sweeping the plain? Or do you spend time ogling at the dead lying forgotten on the streets Do you gape at the grime lining the walls unscrubbed?
When the charity ceases —what do you feel? Do you feel the touch of angels —the softness of life through your skin? Or do you ponder the end of all things eventually creeping in Do you feel the chance to enjoy the time given ebbing, coming to dim?
