life can be compared to a tree,
you start off with the aim to grow,
paths sprouting at each opportunity,
each path ending in a beautiful outcome.
every so often, like clockwork, a path dies,
and after months of bitter cold and alone,
a second chance is given to restart,
more paths and outcomes at your feet.
but like clockwork, the paths you choose turn sour,
the leaves of circumstance wilt and die,
the very life within you turning green, to red,
until there is no life, and the tree dies in the harshest of winters.
point is not every path will lead to endless joy,
but instead, through the months of bitter cold,
that path will lead to a second chance,
and this time, seize that chance and live life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem