Musings Of A Wandering Mind

I often wonder, when does life end? 

When one stops breathing, 

Or is it when one stops living? 

Each morning brings a new promise, 

New joys, openings and love

A day is a lifetime in itself. 

Yet we moan and we mourn

For the dead yesterday

And the unborn tomorrow. 

The day with unlimited possibilities

Is left to die a tragic death

In the chaotic rush to fulfil responsibilities. 

We breathe on, one day to another, 

In the hope of a distant La La Land, 

Where all dreams are fulfilled with a magic wand. 

From cradle to grave, the journey is completed, 

A destiny stymied, a prophecy unfulfilled. 

Many moments crushed, a few sated, 

The plaintive cry of a life unlived.