Wise men oozing serenity, young men toys of their zest, walking the same labyrinth while an age-old mystery unravels before them – ‘the meaning of life’.
I am among them. I wouldn’t call myself wise, nor would I reffer to myself as an adventurous spirit, but I walk along, wondering, not about the meaning of life, but what the word ‘life’ even means.
Is it the time, and all the happenings, between the moment we started this labyrinth and the moment we will inevitably find ourselves at its center?
Or is ‘life’ a force that keeps my eyes wanting to be open, that keeps my feet wanting to hold my body up?
I am not so interested in a meaning, if there is one, nor do I feel a mystery about to be unveiled, but I would love to know –
Why does life want what it wants?