Why do we walk in paths unknown
When we could do what we’ve been shown?
Why do we seek out higher ground
When we could stop and hang around?
Why do we, walking, try to run
And doing, find more to be done?
Why do the lights on distant hills
Bring longing pangs and subtle thrills?
We toil and labor all day long
The constant, endless tasks, a throng
With weary hands and tired sight
Our minds cannot stop taking flight
To things that rise above the fray
To what could be, a better day
A time beyond just fighting through
A hope that gives us strength anew
