The Mystery Called Life

Life—some call it a journey, others call it a race, but I believe it is a mystery.

Happiness here, sorrow there. Joy today, pain tomorrow.

Birth at dawn, death at dusk.


If I had the power to erase all of the unknown,

I would build myself a castle of riches and happiness—

a place of endless celebration, where praises are sung to me,

the queen of an elegant palace with golden walls, ruby tables, and emerald doors.

My throne would shine with diamonds,

and my enemies would bow at my feet all day long.


But thank goodness it is only a dream,

and that I hold no answers to this riddle called life.

For if I did, life would lose its beauty—its mystery—

where good balances bad, poverty humbles riches,

and sickness reminds us of the value of health.


If every desire were granted and every moment under our control,

we would lose the thrill, the suspense, the surprise of each new day.

We would forget what it means to be grateful,

to appreciate small blessings,

or to honour others.

Pride and arrogance would fill our hearts.


Life—in all its forms: good, beautiful, ugly, or painful—

is still a blessing we must learn to treasure.

It is not perfect, but every day is a gift.

Whether you see life as a game, a battle, or a test of time,

one truth remains:

life is a gift, and no word describes it better

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