The Question of All Questions

You know the one I'm talking about.
The one that crawls into your conscious at 3 am,
A frantic, fleeting thought
Which brings to question all you thought you knew,
And everything fear to know.

What is the meaning of life?

Yes, what is the meaning of all this?
This magnificent, painful, confusing game
That we wake up to, day, after day, after day...
Everyone has their favorite theory.

Is it maybe...
To help?
To learn?
To dream?
To achieve?
Or is it simply to be happy?

Or perhaps,
it is the first cry of a red faced newborn, it's delicate eyelids squinted shut,
Or the way snow floats down to earth on an early winter morning.

Or maybe it's none of these.
Perhaps there is none.
Maybe the meaning of life is just that:
Life.
And the meaning of yours is up to you.