What is life, I ask.
And the cosmos plays the symphony
It's in a little rain, a little sun
A little dust, a little rust
A little soberness
And a little drunk on liquor,
And in some memories blur.
It's in the season autumn,
When the olive leaves tear
As they may.
In the spring as the flowers heyday
In winter's cold grey
And in young summer's day.
It's in the faint music
Playing in the background,
In lost and in found.
It's in the time of day
When you see the moon
And the sun together, they lay
One at the horizon of a new fate
The other at the horizon to abate.
What is life, I ask again
It's in madness, and in sanity.
Life, a moving image to eternity.

-pranj.