To Be Born Into

I was just thinking about you,

and oh,

this world is a beautiful place to be born into,

that is, if you don’t mind 

fortune’s and ruin’s touch, now and then,

and the dual taste of love and bitterness ––

as a two-in-one or alone. 

I was dreaming in the sun

when I thought of you,

and oh, 

this world is a sweet hell of everything

to be thrown into:

politics, then an apocalypse,

progressions yet regressions,

laughters, then cries,

a new day, or the light.

Love, I was wondering about the weather

and I thought of you.

Does the rain feel just as lonely as it does here? 

Does spring bloom just as wonderfully as it does here? 

Does life feel the same there as it does here?

I was thinking this world is a beautiful place to be born into,

and I remembered how you once were my beautiful world.