I used to think,

That the meaning

Of life,

Is revealed

In the grandest act,

Whether in fact,

It means gaining success,

Fame, or wealth,

Or reaching the epitome

Of being kind;

This meaning,

The quintessence

Of my existence,

Must be something

Of deep significance.

Until one day

Not long ago,

I realised

That the meaning of life,

Is different

For me, than it is for you,

That we must each write

Our own story;

And so I choose,

To let go

Of the grandeur,

Of my borrowed dreams

From when I was wee;

And instead to embrace

A return to the roots,

To where it all began –

To plant a tiny seed

Or two,

Or more –

To water them,

To watch them sprout,

And then bloom,

Adding to the green

Of my surrounding,

Making it a haven of peace

In time,

Maybe that is the meaning

Of my life.

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