I Would Die Just To Feel Alive

I remember the times, a past so long ago, when as a child there wasn’t a care in the world. Who cared about tomorrow when tomorrow had no worries?

When my life was a clean slate.


What Is Life?

I do not know.

At the point in time this is written, all I know is if there is life

there is death.

Nothing last forever, not even the universe.

In this short pathetic lifespan of 80? 90? Or even hundred years, God knows how long(or short), of living, what do I do? Does it even matter if it still ends the same?

What’s out there? Beyond our universe? (“Beyond” is probably a human concept and perspective too)

Is there time or any of our physical laws “outside” our universe? Or is that, too, just a fragment of this universe?

Why do we even try

when we are this measly small and extinguishable

For What Do We Exist?

What is the meaning of life?

Why do we try so hard when, after all, we are still specks of cosmic dust?

All these end when we draw our final breath, so why

Do we live?

When after all we have created our own environment 

Discarded nature 

Outlived our purpose of survival 

Disregarded the animal instinct 

Cramped ourselves into those small office cubicles in the concrete jungle 

When on the other end of the globe, they have barely any life in them 


For whom does the bell tolls?

The Human Condition


7 300 000 000 people and counting.

Humans, such indescribable creatures
Everyday, every minute, what each and every human face
Whether they are rich or poor
Black, white or grey
The one with sympathy or without
Millions of events and small incidents occur in life.
How each and every one has a story
Or not
How we live the minutes and hours blind
That we don’t matter but only to ourselves
We are just organisms
Made in God’s image
Just of futile existence
Another race surviving to be the “fittest “

We face the human condition

How purposeless yet meaningful is life.

We Never Knew

How the years have passed

Like seconds on a watch.

We never knew one day we would be out in the fields

Getting our own meat.

Married with our own families,

Watching our kids

Leave the nest to forge their path,

The cycle repeats.

Watching old Time running,

Taking me with it.