If everything were roses, child,
from morn to night and dusk til dawn,
the perfume we once relished would
become a soporific yawn.
If everyday was bright with sun
and not a cloud in sight,
the world would wither, bake and crack
beneath that fiery blight.

If gems and pearls were everywhere
we’d trample them without a care.
If all we had to eat was rice,
how much would be an apple’s price?
So every prize has its criteria;
To taste an ice cube in Siberia
could not delight the thirsty child
like one born to the desert wild.

So celebrate the sweet, the sour, the bitter, salty way
we gather keepsakes, wounds and scars from living day to day;
And all the little deaths we die within this cabaret
bring meaning to the love that lights our hour of shadow play.

The earth is precious ’cause it’s rare,
this marbled speck floats on, out there,
with sun and moon through space to shine
without an end or finish line.
While free to fail, to fall in life,
the God who weeps with us through strife
provides a friend, the path, our way
to choose light in this shadow play.

So celebrate the sweet, the sour, the bitter, salty way
we gather keepsakes, wounds and scars from living day to day;
And all the little deaths we die within this cabaret
bring meaning to the love that lights our hour of shadow play.

If it is true that you are only happy as you’re grateful,
open your heart, let it rejoice, even when you’ve had a plateful.

So celebrate the sweet, the sour, the bitter, salty way
we gather keepsakes, wounds and scars from living day to day;
And all the little deaths we die within this cabaret
bring meaning to the love that lights our hour of shadow play.

_______

Copyright 2025 M. Ryan Taylor

Note: I finished this one after reflecting on a conversation I had with my brother about the experiences we’ve had the past few years.

Photo credit: Javier Allegue Barros via Unsplash

Post filed under All UkulelePlay! Blog Posts.