A candle in the wind we are,
Unknown to it nature but our own,
Among  the atmospheres and things unknown,
too hasty we are to the things known,
what a life our light are there to shine,
 yet to the sinking realms our soul mourn,
 not too common and not too simple it seems,
but  a stimulus of wants it is to our mind,
 to the unknown and things known,
Aggression may be the case,
Where revenge, animosity share the same race
and greed tend to be such kind;
Ahead life path it paced.

Weak we are to be wise in the eyes of the sun,
More concise to the moon we find none,
 an environment to the trees we failed to be,
and a cycle to earth glimpsing glee;
in the  horizon our awareness tend to rest,
Prone to the things we cannot see.
where the nature of hope we dream utterly,
quit to stand on our side,
 for the day light our souls mourns bitterly,
and the hope to shine fail to abide.

As the warm air compellingly cease,
eagerly in search of that relaxing breeze,
So are we swiftly lingered the sea shore,
Dreary featured on the ocean floor,
as our mind fermented the cold,
 stars looses it glow, and the sky unravel the untold.
Our brain rise like the angry waves,
to conquer the slow and to act the brave,
For the ravishment of time we will know,
Hard and uncertain like a mystery cave.

As we increase in knowledge,
Puny to understanding,
And pitiful to wisdom
we became blind to the simple,
Technologically the age rises ,
as the endeavors for peace cripple,
united we ones  stand,
nonetheless, vicious and greed detailed our mind,
advance in resources,
as unity and equality decline;
 the age became one of a kind.
Enticing it was, a competitive momentum
aroused from the grave, aggregation to agitation,
with unnecessary progression,
that escalates extensive opinions.

A remote control it was, trailing unpredictable courses.
Our minds became corrupted,
 with the revenues of the world resources.
The volcanic of capitalism irrupted,
Maneuvering  to different sect,
 as the rise of the sun became dim,
our intention revealed but yet,
In the midst of it appearance, lies our own destruction,
in the circuit of life the things that harden our minds.
Sounds  of emotion felt deeper than the ocean,
Lonely like the valley without it rivers,
 the wind flattered our motion,
Our minds are  pin to the ground.

Congested, as oxygen go unsound,
 so would our trend of thoughts,
if we yield to the thing not bound.
Greed is the word, when it comes to sowing our own seeds,
Molding our own lawn, and growing our own crops.
The competitive nature, being reluctant to disappear,
Out span necessities and wants as to nature,
Famine with no regards, but gazed in the air for hope,
Aggressively to gain, voluntarily or involuntarily,
Sentiments of forced to drive up the slope.

But as a child in a cradle,
we need to be rocked and comforted,
Watched, and  coped, for we like a candle in the wind,
We can easily be blown out  by the things that is enticing,
What is it to our necessities
when it only benefits our wants?
NOTHING! Because not everything that glitters is gold.