Destiny, is there really such a thing?
Something you will do, someone you will be?
Are we all born as art
Ready to be sold to the world?
Or as a blank canvass
Where the world shapes us, makes us and breaks us.
Everyday there’s a new stroke on the canvass
A new chink in the marble
A new note on the sheet
A new step to the dance evolving with the beat.
Maybe destiny is real,
We find if by chance.
Everyday you wake up welcoming the dawn.
With life, with purpose, breathing in life’s all.
Jaded is the moon, vibrant as the sun.
This is your destiny, there can only be one