Ah it's life...

More irrelevant than baby’s blabber, stupid causeless like actions of some toddler

Or meaningful predetermined and thoughtful, set of events leading to a destined outcome

Complex serpentine leading to nowhere, full of mirages where nothing is in real

Or simple straightforward and accurate, where arrow has no option other than hitting to its target

                 

Haphazard unpredictable and lawless, where every event is ruled by the chances

Or calculated strategic and formula driven, as if it’s created by some mathematician

Ah that’s life, a series of strange events, has no meaning but still sets the stage

The moment we think we’ve figured out the plot, everything changes to make us to feel lost…

Lost in a jungle, fierce and cruel, the only real emotion we might feel is a sense of competition

Angels may come, suddenly from nowhere, but we can’t be happy as they may not be real

Fickle volatile and superficial, some relations evaporate like oil floating on the river

Some are like the sky, always with us, no matter our location no matter the status

The sky may just be an illusion, picture of the past—a memory hitting to our vision

Vision of the mind might be accurate; the gut reaction only sometimes fails

Comedy tragedy thriller or mystery, jumping across the genre without any warning

A strange creation by some awful stubborn poet, ah that’s life, we can’t love or hate…

Covered with thorns or flowers or both, it’s a bizarre path to walk on

With Flowers capable of turning into thorns, and thorns capable of becoming our allies

Ambition focus work and efforts, may or may not bear the fruit of success

Sometimes just letting go is what that is required; sometimes it might hit the face

Sometimes faith saves the day; sometimes it’s the cause of death

Nihilists might just embrace some cause; devotees might get divorce from their god

Ah it’s life, maybe it’s not meant to make any sense; what surprises me most is the drive to sustain

Maybe it’s the hope forcing us to keep on turning pages; maybe it’s the curiosity for what’s next

Where it’s going, directed or flowing or is it stagnant this being my ultimate destiny…

I’m waiting to see, dreaming hoping and living, just as a main character of some awful poet’s script