Lost

Is it not silly,
To cry over things
That do not last?
Like Life.
Like Love.

Is it, that we live
Or are we lived?
What we hold on to
Always lost.
Like Years.
Like Tears.

It's not depressing.
It's just meant
To be that way.
What do we earn
From our struggles?
What we treasure,
In the end
Must give.

Why? Why cry?
It's a dream
Like the morning fog.
It burns away
With approaching dawn.

"Is there a meaning,
to all this?"
Left unanswered

But...
Why pull at my strings
And make music that must die.
Why live,
Just because I am alive


-----Megha (09/22/07)