The quest for life begins with the thirst for milk 
And ends with the thirst for death. 

In between there are people, books, theories and tools, 
There are leaders, saints, capitals, the poor and the fools. 

The distance is largely covered in the blink of eye, 
And bridge we all along plan for we actually never cross. 
Some marry. Some don't. Some travel. Some won't. 

Each one carries their own bottle ... 
Full of water, wine or sherbat. 
Each one leaves behind some evidence ­ 
in a child, or a page or on the moon. 

Through all this wandering for the soul, that really knows nothing about death, 
remains the only need to live. 

The only priceless, free, act to be happy.