The world is like a melody. There are different chords, each and every part different from the other in its own way. Like a note, we dance atop the lines of life, balancing between and on the rope. A note to another will play beautifully if put together, and even when the dance is wrong, we still proceed. Twirling around each other with different complications and troubles as we, ourselves, play the keys and preform the song. It is delicate and hard to master, but no thing is perfect, so no one shall know the true beauty of a song, life. And that is beauty itself. That is doesn't last, that it can stop in an instant, because, in the end, no one proceeds.
