Imagine a world where every morning smells of gratitude,
where hands are raised not to harm, but to embrace.
Where words are not weapons, but seeds of understanding,
and every glance becomes a prayer of silence and peace.
In that world, the old walk upright —
for the young have not forgotten them,
but follow their steps with respect.
Children play on green fields, pure of heart,
while bees whisper to them the secrets of flowers,
and the trees grow tall,
toward a sky that finally breathes without smoke or pain.
Rivers flow clearer than ever,
carrying songs of gratitude to the earth,
each drop of water knowing its name,
each spring shining like a prayer of life.
No one measures the worth of life in gold,
but in kindness that glows from within.
Hunger is a forgotten word,
for every table is sacred,
and every heart an open temple.
Imagine cities that sing softly,
where streets smell of hopes planted by human hands,
where people have understood that the earth is a mother,
not a servant.
That the bee is an angel,
and the forest — a cathedral of light.
And if we decided,
just once, all together,
to be thankful for every breath,
for every drop of water,
for every living being —
the world would change.
Evil would lose its home,
and happiness would find its path —
among us.
For the path to happiness does not lead through struggle,
but through understanding.
Not through power,
but through gentleness.
Not through walls,
but through hands that plant,
and eyes that see the good.
Let the poem come alive.
Let it echo softly,
in every person who dares
to believe —
that the world can still be beautiful.
