Perhaps

There are two kinds of people existing on this mortal biosphere. One queue holds the humans living in the wait of The Great Perhaps. Bearing a warrior in their hearts, everyday they fertilize their hopes, sharpen their knives and dust their knees off to run again. Even if terribly broken, they know they can heal and even if not, they can shine as loud as others. The Great Perhaps ignites their soul, they can dance on fire and still be smiling in the hope of rain. In short, they can be called the optimistic in the wise words of the world.

The second herd never cleanse their scars, never look for stars to wish, to live again. Slaves of their routine, they’re chained by their experience and never miss a chance to believe in disbelief. The Great Perhaps never fuels their life. Their blood runs till it has to, never their last breath holds exhaustion from trying.

Some die to live more than just breathing.

Some live to die in hope of nothing.

©Mulberrywords