Happiness is naught but an illusion
One may grasp at it, but never hold it.

Life is merely a path.
One may follow it, but never stray from it’s desired course.

Time is a river, seeming to flow onward forever.
‘Till it ends at the ocean.

Try to escape death as we may, it will always catch up to us.
And then it shall hold thou in it’s cold yet warm hands.