But what , then , is Life ?

But what ,then,  is 'Life' ?

The purpose of Life is a 'life of purpose'.

Life is a long wait; a lonely bed
Always waking on your own
Dwelling amid a maddening crowd
Yet feeling home alone . . . .

Life is writing a book . . .
Knowing your perfect beginning
But where to go from there ?
 Whose crux is its ending. . .

Life is signing treaties with what’s ‘lifeless’
Donning a veil of indifference. . . . .
When behind a facade of  ecstatic laughter
Lies that tear-stained visage
It is flawless pretense . . . . 

Life is a sudden , profound downpour
From a cloudless, sunny afternoon sky
Soaking yourself in the sweet rain
Only to remain achingly dry . . . . .

Life is going back to ‘normal’
Following old , smudgy footsteps
Never  treading on the unsullied mud
Warily advancing ,not being reckless

It’s an unending quest. . . . .
Of  fathoming the unfathomable
Yet pondering like a layman
But what, then , is ‘Life’ ?

Life is hunting down the Holy Grail
Of  subjective truth . . . . .
Armored protectively in a chain-mail
Sewn sardonically with lies.


Life is smelling dead roses
As they die their brief deaths,
Uncared, in crystalline vases
Yet to feel no regret . . . . .

Life is reading between the lines
Scrutinizing evey comma and full stop
Recognizing ‘deceit’ hidden in beautiful words
Before exclamation catches you off guard
Where innocence is followed by fines.

Life is a wild goose chase . . .
Going round and round a maze
Far out of reach from the center
Then halfway down meeting a stranger

Life is losing, and getting lost
Murdering your ardent desires. . .
Trampling long-cherished dreams
Only to be at an ‘alien somewhere’. . .

It’s a villainous mystery........
Whoever prides himself  to have resolved
At nightfall , in appalling secrecy,
 Asks himself: ‘But what,then, is Life ?’


@SenoritaEnchantress (17/02/2013)