Why are we made
to suffer and cry
when so much beauty
surrounds us- to die

when we’re in
the spring of life
when all the flowers
are dancing by our side?

  Our love is still so nascent
  waiting to bloom- to deny?
  We are yet to share the best
   ere the dusk hours draw nigh-

    to music I turn
    for consolation - there I fly
    where tears don’t appear
   and pain and suffering never pass by.

...but your best
anticipated thing
  is not likely
   to be happening

Everything
is worth a try
with one exception-
die

I'm not good
at bluffing
so, I'll say
nothing

Sometimes you see
other times, you don't.

Sometimes you know
other times, you don't.

Sometimes you believe
other times, you doubt.

Sometimes you own
other times, you're owned.

Sometimes you control
other times, you're controlled.

Sometimes, you hold
other times, you're held.

Sometimes you're loved
other times, you're hated.

Sometimes you win
other times, you lose

but

as long as you live
you never cease to breathe.

I'm not flattered
by any winning
nor disheartened
by any losing

they are only incidentals
on the periphery of life's core-living:
what does matter to me
is that my life is lived in meaning

without which I'll but exist
in an existential vacuum--nothing
of worth would be found
and I'll be less than a human being-

time watches me ceaselessly
in all my endeavouring-
to every occasion I must rise
or end up in moral diminishing

Truth can't be split
or diced
even by
the sharpest knife