Living is ordinary,
Often mundane,
It is the only way of being,
That you’ve ever known,
As opposed to,
How not to.

Living is taxing,
In more ways than one,
There are places
To go to,
And many things
To get done,
Even the most basic ones;
But together,
They add one onto one,
Leading to many moments,
Of being hard done.

Living is often
Fraught with pain,
As you go through phases,
You would rather not;
Being hard pressed,
For time, action, words, and grace,
You stare into the face,
Of impossible situations,
When you wish to transport,
To another place,
Or another continuum,
Of time and space;
But more often than not,
You persist,
Because that is all,
You’ve ever known.

Living can bring joy,
In the most mundane,
Of random moments;
When you watch the sun rise,
The birds in the sky,
Or a pretty butterfly;
When you hold your child,
And hug him tight;
When you rest your head,
In the comfort of your bed,
At the end of a long day,
Of living and trying;
In each of these pauses,
You come to find,
A semblance of purpose,
To living this life.

Image Credit: Photo by Charles L. on StockSnap