From our boxes we peer;
Searching for what we cannot find,
Knowing not what will appear,
Knowing not if hope has died.
That makes it all the worse!
There you sit and there you cry.
And it feel you have a curse,
That will not be rectified!
But look inside the box,
At the key and the sword.
Now your choice they might mock,
To face truth, or try nevermore.
But whether they admit or not,
They too have made that choice.
Some have chosen to be caught,
Never to have joy.
But the few, the slim few,
Searching for what they do know,
They wait there for you.
So make your choice, in this repose.
For time is short and you must choose
Whether the door will open or close.
So go ahead, make your move.
Make it the best thing you ever do.