Could it be sweetness or bitterness,
Light or darkness,
Or is it only our wants that matter?
Confusingly, does it really matter?

Emptiness fills our dream homes
The crux we roam
When always wishing till night comes
Reality could feel as doom.

Deeper cravings for the parameters
Known only by the masters
Of what really makes life better
Instead of suffering it later.

Who is, and where is the master
To experientially reveal this matter?
Considerably, isn't it better,
Who knows, our dreams could be better?

We exist by our fighting for survival,
Live by our hunger for revival,
Purposefully defined,
Ignorantly defiled.

From the night age feels as death
Have the living years from depth
Measure the existing years from birth
Then confess curse or bless.