Tunnel

It is not the money on your pocket
That lets you buy an expensive cigarette;
Not the fortune you’ve been saving,
All for the glory of extravagant spending.

It is not the beauty of being high above the sky,
Seeing the clouds below you as you fly,
Or the scream as you take a deep breath,
And jump on the cliff as if it’s your death.

It is not the diamond on your finger
With a promise still uncertain from your lover;
Not the way they call your name,
A superiority you won from a dangerous game.

One may tell a tale so worthy,
But the end is not entirely its beauty;
For it is not the end of the tunnel you crossed,
But the journey, all the risks you tossed.