Life is so brief, only 20 or 30 years; the rest is taken up by sleeping, personal care, and other things we don't enjoy. So, making the most of life is hard work: arguments, problems, thefts, heartbreaks. That's why many say life is like a breeze that passes without leaving a trace. Generations come and go, and no one remembers them; the only important thing was to exist, and nothing remains when we're gone, not even loved ones. The recommendation is to let it go and continue with your life, but there are people who can't forget their beloved person throughout their entire life, and they only hope to see them again in the promise of returning, wherever that hope reunites them.
What we see until today is that no one came back; only the great generals, the great artists, the songs, and movies leave. Everything is left behind, and life goes on as if none of this existed. So vain and futile is life that all we can do is think about making the most of it, but the genetics and education we receive as children mark us forever. Most of us only have a routine life surrounded by few satisfactions. This evening turning into night, reflecting on it is just another bitter pill. Life, something so divine and perfect.
Women bring life into the world, and animals do too. It's so simple to create life, and we don't know how nature makes it so simple. And we, with an incredible brain, can't decipher the enigma of life because it's all around us. Life gushes forth, but we can't do anything to gain the knowledge of giving life or extending our own, surrounded by so much splendor; we just have to let it go. No one on the planet has been able to stop aging, death, or illness. Everything is so vague, and the mind, a true puzzle that isn't understood, not even to pull us out of depression or the destructive feelings that haunt us; they're just patches. That's how we live, and in the end, nothing will remain.
