“random-ism”

Is this what you call making it, because I’m not so sure what I think

I know that I’ve held to life once dearly and considered letting go in an eye’s blink 

I’ve never felt more alive than when I’ve looked into the stars

Breathed in clear and and wished that I could fall upward for a million miles

Just to taste you, just to touch you,

Even if for only a second

Is this what they call Living, because sometimes it bearly getting by

To breathe in and breathe out, contemplate surrender, and ask what is life