Mundane
From all the light that the earth touches, Simba was more intrigued in the dark spaces... For when given some things on a silver platter, It's value is lost without the effort on the bond. Not that we must lose to gain, But we must get lost to realise it's claim, For when we are found post losing again, We understand what we have all within... This dance with self, through our elements around, It's the work we put in for our essence to be found... For lost and Found are two concepts abstract, More like man made creations of providing a track... A line to follow, and what if we let go, A line is drawn aimlessly and sooo? What's wrong is ensuing in the chaos that follows, Maybe a pattern doesn't emerge tomorrow? Maybe we need more thought in our marrow? Maybe a seed to nurture and burrow? Maybe some deeds we can't blindly follow? Somewhere if freed, comes a blinding hollow.? Somehow we need the light to say hello? Someone is key so we can blame and wallow? What if...