The babe never asks.
The child doesn’t care.
The adolescent ponders.
The teenager is consumed by it.
The adult is haunted by it.
The withered old man cares about it no more,
For he has the answers he needs to those questions of life.

The ancient knows the answers to those questions
For he has seen the horrors
And the miracles
That life has to offer.
He is losing the war against time
As it slowly gains ground
Through a war of attrition.

He constantly is fighting the battle
With the inner demons
That lurks in his depths.
He wins the daily skirmishes
Against life
And all it throws in his way
Day by day.
Each moment awake,
Every step he takes
And every last word he utters
Is in defiance
Of the foolish questions
That haunt and torment
The less experienced veterans
In this daily battle.

For he knows
That to focus on those questions
And their answers
Will result in naught.

Love,
And loss.
Joy,
And sadness.
Ecstasy,
And agony.
These are the answers.

To not focus on the questions
Of your life entire,
But rather
To live the life you have today,
For you never know what will come tomorrow.