The Epicurean Life

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The Epicurean life…

The enigma of life never resolves; the plot becomes thicker and more complicated; developments take you to a free fall…
Will it ever end? Will the awaited culmination ever arrive? Will this chute-the-chute ever come to a halt? 
If it’s supposed to be cosmic, why does everything perish? If we are meant to be alone, why are we webbed together? 
Are we just spectators? Or we are expected to mould each curve? Does He suggest or it’s His decision? Is the challenge in battling it or accepting the transformation?

Like passing through the darkest forest; starry sky leaves the illusion of light on the delusional trail that you travel. Why hold the steering when we are not driving? If the control is virtual why deceive ourselves? Is it being wise or sheer pessimist? 

Why need a purpose? Is it about the chase or entertaining self until the journey ends one day? Why have desires and dreams when it’s all destined? Why believe in yourself when it’s all a mind game? 
Great men preached to rise beyond the worldly pleasures. Why save the world then? Why hope and strive for happiness then? Why crave for ties then?

Everyone’s running a rat race; are we even sure what we want? When the race is over; do we even bother to glance at the prize? It gives a frost bite from the ice of their souls. Does any fire of emotions melt them? 
Where intensity of passion is comparable to measure of insanity; is it safe to lay your heart? Isn’t it imprudent to have a heart at all? 

You land in a strange planet with nothing familiar in your surroundings; even your own breath seems foreign to you, your own soul seem alien to you. 
Your eyes see things which your mind doesn’t read; your skin feels feelings which your heart doesn’t follow, your body experiences emotions which your soul doesn’t perceive…
If the essence has a rationale, why not explicate it? If the equations are simple, why complicate it? If we are to abide by the axioms, why entice the heart somewhere else? 

If the choice was never ours; why provide with options at all? If the test is endurance; why pray at all? If we are being fathered; why fear at all?
If He designs the life; why create troughs? Why every time plunge us into fire, to learn it’s hot? If commandments are clear, why be ambiguous?

The hope for a miracle, the belief in unknown, the burning flame of life; is it the will to prevail or puerile mulishness? 
The smile of triumph is slapped down with a swell of arduousness. Every climb to top is shoved off the cliff to gutters of penance. 
When no one hears the cry of longing; why bother being polite? When no one is holding your hand; why worry about bruised knee? When viability is a liability; why beseech His guardianship?

The Epicurean life…Is it a mere austere sentience of chink in our armour, an ivory coat of underlying wreckage, a sand dune ride in amaranthine desert of setback?