What is Life?

I’ve always wanted to write a poem about Life, So here it is: What is Life? You see, you can’t define what it means Until you find what’s between The genes that make up its definition; My recognition of the exposition That encapsulates the vast idea of Life Is limited— Limited in knowing how it started, How it’s going, how it’s charted ‘Til the very last breath of a being is departed. You see, the game of Life Is easy when you know how to play. But at the end of the day The production of play is up to you; You decide the roads you rake, The turns you take, The moves you make. Backward, forward, Sideways toward The finish line—end of time Goal that is in store. There are many “players” of the game Who will fool around, put you down Make you wish you could end the game sooner. But sooner or later, You’ll realize the real lies They tell you to believe In order to achieve Their own satisfaction In their façade of attraction. You see, the story of Life Is too short for the strife That cuts away at our freedoms Like a razor-sharp knife. It begins and ends With no amends to Apprehend the meaning It extends. The Life you choose Is the Life you live, The story you sieve, The gift you give. I’ve always wanted to write a poem about Life, So here it is: What is Life?