What's life to you?

Her face lets a faint sudden pinch just as she nudged me with her elbow. "What's life to you? she bellows, trying to grasp my every gesture. We've been friends for quite a while but never for once has she been this cheerful and cringy.

At first, I wanted to tell her that life to me means persuing a dream and achieving it then I remembered the faithful words of an old friend, "everything lives; everything dies, everything leans the light".

Suddenly, my head aches. It feels irritating in my throat making me want to puke. They say life is what we make it but sometimes I wonder whether or not those who dies mysteriously, maybe from a ghastly accident or unjust homicide actually made that their fate.

There're lots of questions I want to ask, series of answers I seek beyond reality yet as the morning comes in its young and tender breeze while the epiphanies of life clutches us with hunger and pains.

That which I seek unfolds within my introspection, pellucid yet ambiguous for my understanding although I strive to unscrabble the mysteries behind the oxygen we breathe and the carbon dioxide we share to the trees and green world at large.

Then again, this question, her question hits me like a lawn tennis ball on a bat. Leaving me speechless for a minute or more to put my words together. Not in words, punctuations or brackets but in a simple and honest mandate which is to use what I have at where I am to touch s soul this minute saying thus asking, "What's life to you? ....

Is it the money and flashy cars, fame and freedom to do whatever you and I wants or the simple grip unto honor and not an illusion they call freedom?

So again I ask just like she did me, "What's life to you?"