What is life?
Is there something more to it
than merely going through it.
Sitting and waiting and passing
Is there something more to life?
Watching cars go by
one by one, I wonder,
will I see this car again
tomorrow? Or maybe some time soon?
This is but the fragility of life,
We never know what might happen next.
Things come and go,
nothing lasts forever..
Everything dies, that we know.
So all the friendships and relations that we made,
but for what purpose do we put in such efforts
if everything is for naught.
What can one do to have a significant impact
on himself, on society, on the world?
What can any one person do
to change the world?
One is insignificant, what's a dropp of water to the ocean?
What's a snowflake compared to the rest of the falling snow?
Does one really matter?
Some say everything had to start
somewhere, with one.
But now isn't the case.
There's a multitude of ones present,
this is life, these are lives.
So what's the scenario now?
Is there something more to life than death,
if all we lived for is a mere process
with the final outcome of death.
Perhaps there's something more,
after life? perhaps after death.
perhaps.. just perhaps.
As the cars flash pass
leaving streaks of light trailing behind,
and the setting of sun paints a peculiarly interesting background.
Treasure this moment
was all I could think of.
Perhaps that's the best way to live life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.