Since childhood we are told
That life is uncertain, that the future is unknown
That tomorrow is guaranteed to none
And yet we toil each day endlessly
Ignoring the fact that the person to not wake tomorrow
We could be the one.

Unconsciously we know it, but consciously we are unaware
Because in our experience we have made it so far
And we believe that the next day will also be free from scar
Knowing that we have to die, we still fear it
We still are very much afraid
This dread takes sucks up the life within
And despite living, we are dead.

Aren’t we all dead? Dead at everything we do
Buying stuff, filling closets
As if we are meant to live here forever
Just to say: to live forever is a curse
It’s sounds fascinating, but it really is worse.
No, it’s not about living like a minimalist
But it’s definitely about living, about being
We must understand here
That our act of survival is not our art of living.

We are all surviving…surviving at our Best
Doing things based on probability
Making decisions that give maximum comfort
Kicking out adventure and bringing in routine
And then following it for the decades and one day dying atween
Poof! Poof! Poof! We’ll be gone like this
And barely will one be there for us to miss
We’ll fade out from memories, like our ancestors did
And just like them, we too will forbid.

The clock on which we see the time
It may stay here, but it’s every tick is a countdown for us
And soon enough we will be gone
Gone to a place unknown
And also will leave the place we are supposed to know
But instead, we are confined to a place we consider we know…

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