Reminisce

What does it mean, this idea of life ?
Neither does it reach somewhere,
Nor does it remain stagnant anywhere.
A mere repeat of its own playlist,
A sorry shadow of dead hopes and beliefs,
What does it really mean, to live?
There was once a young version of me,
A small mass of innocent clay, and dreams
And then it rained, each drop an arrow
Pierced the clay, isotropic in its magnanimity
And washed away the diffused in its entirety.
No wonder I wonder what life really means!
I wonder what love once meant to you and me.

I'm too afraid to talk about love anymore
Why bother? My love is destined to die with me.