Sometimes, we are hanging ;

between two peaks of ordinary life and ability.

And we lose the rope, the track, the way ;

We leave, we stop and try just not to move away.

Hanging between ;

We don't bridge towards ability, nor back to the start ;

We just lead a dead life, leaving all of the art.

Sometimes we are on a ship, facing a storm ;

When goals aren't so far;

Where winds blow pleasant and warm.

We don't turn and pass the storm;

And just leave the compass pointing hope.

But it makes no sense to just leave the ship;

and let it wreck turn to a hulk;

and wait for archeologists to explore the talents in bulk.

Sometimes after such a dead life ;

A person must remember the abundance in him.

Again lifting the compass of hope ;

Again learning to grapple the rope.

He should move to infinity ;

And the peak of ability.

At some time we have to kill the already dead within;

We should enlight ourselves ;

And search for the form of life within.

We have all got a point in livin'; though different.

We all have to sail to the island; 

That is just a sight away.

We all have to bridge to the peak;

That is just a might away.

Sometimes on the way, we lose the path ;

Don't worry 'cause you are infinite.

If you lose the rope to the peak ;

Make one by your own might.

Sometimes.......