You might be my answer,
To all those moments spent wishing for one. 
Celebrating or crying, unheeding your presence
Will it be this minute or another - dull ages down?
Omnipresent yet ignored,
You lash out at the least informed. 
Problems as permanent as ice on a summer afternoon,
Do I solve for this one or leave this to you?
My mates all with zest,
Pursue with their conscious will,
Calculated bliss or fear in their ignorance,
Do they fear life or do they fear you?
Should I make a decision?
Or should I sit to regret?
Instead leave all this worldly infestations to you.

Fear, arising from the unknown.
Comfort seeking, as we humans are
How can we seek comfort in something we don't know?
We love labeling the hazardous and knowing the future,
Flimsy horoscopes and mathematical projections all put together.
Belief in thinks to define this unknown,
God we call it and to God we call for it. 

Happiness in moments as simple,
As a birth or an union,
Forever we'd love to believe,
and forever we seem to believe.
Don't we know, don't we confront?
That this stable fear, of undoing our lives,
everything we sought and everything planned,
It all comes down, thanks to destiny's hand.
Rejoicing this what we have,
of what we think we know something of -
knowledge not yet so complete, 
of what we should rejoice for and what not to.

The joys of infinite youth.
Senility is something out of our loop,
Ever so young and healthy,
with riches and all that this world has to offer.
Not once do we stop think,
or debate on this falsified existence,
That has spurned out of ignorance and deceit, 
what makes us the intelligent about what's to be said?
Fallacies so rich that they become glowing truths,
Life is what we support and reason about,
What answer has it given and how long does it last?
The human longing for the infinite,
Infinite love,wisdom, health and wealth.
None in this life,
of which we know nothing of. 
What was before and what comes after?
Our answer for eternity is not what consciousness offers,
A mere mirage it should be.
Life, it's not you who we should rejoice.
Death - come to me someday,
I'll be waiting for you, with a drink or two.