Before picked up, a fluted shell looks empty lying in sand of the sea shore,
Only to find later how much with sand it is gravid and more;
People are like these shells, though looking empty,
But gravid with an intensity that they themselves never realize.
Tantalizing they look just before being knocked down on the ground,
Only to find out later how much with prosody they are trifled.
Their joy is from sharing and caring, yet their sound addiction to sadness,
Their gamble of living half a life, those tactics of yet wanting all and all.
It’s a con if they look empty to you; for all they are, is anything but empty.
Remind this to those faces of ashes and clay, those eyes of sparkling dew dabble,
To those minds full of infinite insights, thoughts full of money and moon,
To their fire-like raging will, to those making gyved efforts,
Remind them to open gates to their endless vehemence,
For there is no beauty like the beauty of unshackled freedom.
Remind people to be kind; Like the sun, like the moon, like the trees and shooting stars,
That how much love can be given to earth by just living here kindly,
No living a half-life, giving everything they have to this earth, and to die empty,
The money, the career, the stress it spells, can all be turned into grace,
Remind them ain’t there a story without struggle, they can still make this world a better place,
Like the shells who are yet to be washed off the sand and be a necklace,
Oh remind your comrades, “Why so serious? Let’s put a smile on that face!”