On Life, Death, and the Timing of the Walk of Life
Wandering minds of lifeless vessels drift aimlessly through the streets of life with no further purpose than that of... existing?
What is life but the path to death, if not for its content?
Hence the paradoxical question:
what is the meaning of life?
Surely, death comes to us all. Implying death could never be the purpose of life. Yet, some seem to live only to exist and, therefore, seemingly, only to eventually die.
Which enhances the question even further. And adds one more question;
what is the purpose of life?
It cannot be growth or wealth only. For surely, too many people live on the border of non-existence, stumbling down the streets like tumbleweed... seemingly aimlessly, yet living and surviving. Whilst others live in abundance, yet within lifeless experiences.
Ever wondered what keeps people going?
What is the factor that, despite living just above survival level, keeps people alive and growing old?
...as if life is nothing more than a waiting line, where people move slowly, but steadily, towards their certain end-destination.
There must be more to life than the aim to grow. For we grow old and eventually die.
There must be more to life than the aim to wealth. For wealthy and poor struggle across the same path to the common ending.
Perhaps a riddle may enlighten the question without giving the answer.
Riddle:
Stumble along,
oh careless vessels of ancient minds.
Seek not to live,
but to drift towards death.
-with vanished hopes-,
and diminished dreams of a better life.
...or, perhaps, a better death.
Life is not the event of living
but being alive.
To breathe.
To talk (perhaps).
To love.
To be.
Be as it may;
wandering souls of limited vessels
grow older
as they leap from shore to shore.
Through never-ending experiences.
Souls hovering carelessly,
in dream-like fantasies,
above the nothingness of the universe.
Addendum: Final Reflection.
What if life was nothing but a passageway?
The interim between birth and death. Where souls are taught to learn in order to move on to who-knows-where.
What if life is nothing but the seemed experience of living?
The emotion of breathing and growing for the apparent reason of existing. And, therefore, the adventure of living and experiencing life.
What if life is nothing but a delusional death of a soul which left its true course?
The dream of a stranded soul. Bound to live in a limited shell with limited power, yet, knowing its true capacity is limited both by physical and external boundaries.
What if life is simply the act of living?
Breathing.
Loving.
Growing.
Expanding.
...perhaps the question is wrongly put. Disguised in the attempt to give meaning to the uncertain path of life, perhaps the question is not about life but the meaning of death.
End of thought.