What is Life?

Is it breath, is it hunger,

Is it the presence of joy or anger?

Is it fire, or is it air?

Is it dark, or is it fair?

What is life?

They tell me life is a timespan

When was it that life began?

They tell me life ends in death

But is life just a feeble breath?

What is life?

The green in the meadows, the shine in the stream,

Is it all life, or is life just a dream?

If this is a dream, then what is true?

Is there a life, whose dream we pursue?

If that is true, when shall we rise?

What shall we see when we open our eyes?

What is life?

I wonder, if life is a myth that God has created

Then He cannot be alive, so, is God dead?

If life and death were made, what existed before the two?

If afterlife exists, is there an ‘afterdeath’ too?

Sometimes I wonder, if I am alive, then one day I must die;

What will I see then, what world, will appear before my eye?

What is life?

The blush in a loved face, is it life?

The sparkle in fireflies, is it life?

The magic of a lullaby, is it life?

The glow of a sunset, is it life?

Or is it the mundane gait of everyday,

The wind in trees, the tide in a bay?

The wetness in a teardrop, the brightness of a smile

Or the profoundness in a moment, the brevity in a mile.

What is life?

They tell me life is a journey, where are we going to?

If we are going somewhere, we must belong somewhere too.

If we’re going to heaven, where were we until now?

Why did we leave that place, was it unpleasant somehow?

Why do we all the ravages of time endure?

If we know that life is a journey for sure?

Why then does this question occur to me again and again:

Why then, do I ask, had it been in vain—

What is life?