What if

For every flower, there is a season
For every jewel there is a month
And for everyone there is a time
Or so we thought.
Could it be that we aren't meant to soar high but low
Could it be that we are meant to be in the picture but only as shadows
Could it be that we aren't meant to be shine bright but dim
What more could a body of infinite pain want more than an island of its own
If possible an early grave