Life Futile

In the cold quietness of the winter morning,
I let the window open and mist roll in,
And chill runs through my spines,
To think of what future holds for me.

Like an illusion I have followed my dreams,
But with milestones reached, goals fade away,
Just as my steamy breathings in the air,
And make my thoughts vigorously sway.

With the wind biting my feet and spinning head,
Realization downs upon my moist eyes,
Life is but a wild goose chase,
Futile is the desperate run for the highs.

No matter how precious are the trophies won,
There is always a battle at hand,
War but continues till the soul perishes,
And it becomes a chapter unread of the bygone.