A Mysterious Beginning

Life, As it is, So vaguely defined, Some refer of it as mine, yours, his or her, Though none know how it tears, repairs, and solidifies, So many relations are formed,Yet so less are retained, So much can be obtained from it, Yet so much lost, In a hollow sense, What so gladly you had claimed yours, Could next day be someone elses, And yet even in this mysterious self, Life seems to move on, As it mends its ways of love, And cares in its own virtue, And just as slowly as these ripples of water tend to unfold,We never think more than we are told, As the stars have written each and every soul, We are none but destined to grow, Yet none know how life came to be, All know how it comes to an end, And to claim and to desire is only a matter of time, And To hold and feel is only a matter of space, Yet none of it ever lasts,For what could one day be as elegant as a peacock , Could just be a carcass the next... And just as these deep secrets of nature remain forever concealed, The mystery of life must always also, Be remain forever confined, Even so in the absence of you and I...