Writings on the Wall

The other day my friend asked me, “What is life? Is it the days we live or the dreams we dream?” Don’t know how I did that, but most of the time, I just added a question mark to my answers and got away with a diplomatic reply. No wonder I did the same here. “ain't it the days we live that we call Life?” I replied (I asked) We all are destined for something, So why be afraid to know beforehand, if the problems are arriving? Ignorance is clouding my mind. All the signs coming on my way. But difficult to interpret like a needle stick in hay, I wish the walls could speak; Then I would know… One day when the sun rose in the west, I was pretty confident and could finally rest. All those frustrations and anger, The dilemma of choices Were as easy to control as a pie. The insecurity of failing or tragedy was gone. Finally, I heaved a sigh of relief. and focused on a different belief. We could hear the song; "Writings on the Wall" by Sam Smith; Being played somewhere far in the November cold. It made us reminisce about all the good old days gone by, Dark ages slowly creeping in and how we will never get them back. because it is a writing on the wall Living is just a brief encounter with the pending death.