Young Souls

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What we don’t believe in;

Is the possibility of imagination becoming reality

because; our wrinkles are nothing but the lines of wisdom;

And a sign for the eternity of our young souls

And our freckles are nothing but stars;

We have collected from the mother sun

And our age is nothing but a meaningless o’clock;

Counting out of fear of the unknown future

because we forget;

we could be the warriors, not the victims

We could be the reality makers, not the daydreamers

We could be enchanted by the sparkles of life;

Not the misery of the past and the puzzle of the future

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