Superfluous Thing Called Life

So little life interests me;

I do not understand others

And their enthu for life;

This world is but an illusion

An illusion by the five senses;

People are busy, too busy

Making a living to live

And seek happiness always

Be it through possessions

Or through relationships,

Some seem to find it a bit

But only for a short while

As change sweeps through

To leave them flummoxed.