Mud Puddle Protozoan

When its going smoothly and purring along like a Maserati on a silky autobahn. I'd like to live a long life, like a bristle cone pine. Bathe in the moonbeams of infinity throttle down the Rolex of father time... When life's slings rocks at the soul, I want life to be brief as a mud puddle protozoan. Just take a few sips of bad water-then die within seconds. Instead, these wings beat somewhere between, I think it's not for me to decide when it's my time... Or is it?