What does it mean to be human?
For ages, people have been asking this question with books, plays, music, and films.
I wrote a short poem about this very topic.
Why do we cry when we’re helpless?
Why don’t we show love more often?
Why does a loss make us care more?
Why are we so in a hurry?
Why does a brush with death illuminate the value of life?
Why do we fear pain when pain is part of existence?
Why do we feel regret when every mistake is a wisdom?
Why do we live in the past when all that is there is the present?
Why do we dream of our future instead of making it happen?
Why are there so many questions?
Why is there no one right answer…?
Why are we always searching?
Why are we born to be human?
You might enjoy this related post from my Instagram account that further explores this topic:
Tales from the Attic 