By Riddhi Majithia
Why is it that when we embark on this journey of life, we think about the end,
The monstrous animosity of unawareness, choking us to fend.
Why is it that we fixate on the idea of living after we are dead,
Whilst life has not yet fully been fed.
The inevitability of death is lurking throughout, whispering in our ears,
Yet we shun it out, tangled in our delusion… not filled with tears.
Seeking for hope, seeking for faith,
Seeking for something so badly that we create what we aspire to have laid.
Why is there a fear of the bleak future when the present is filled with prairies,
Open your eyes and breathe, because the future does not possess fairies.
The mind is a powerful device that fails to see the utopia,
And envisages an icy distant dystopia.
Life is a gift that comes not again,
Do not be greedy and do not pretend.
Live it while you are living,
For you shall soon descend.
The future does await you,
But the present is holding your hand.