This forum is solely about literature, yet literature is not apart or separate from what we do in day to day life. As a matter of fact literature can be conflated with business and commerce, culture and profession, geography and astronomy It sounds it is totally out of context or relevance.
Yet it has germaneness in point of fact.

Life is everything, not just this and that. Defining it in terms or scaffolding it in a frame is something likened to trying shading the entire sun with a palm. Both are impossible.

From an independent lens if we look at life it is nothing to define or confine in literary terms or philosophical propositions or biological or anatomical postulations.

All have different arguments with regard to life, and yet it is not one part, but holistic and integral to all.

No one can impeccably say what life is. Yet all we in common can come closer to the meaning of life. It is in part in the sweats of farmers, in the wails or in the screech of small children we see glimpses of life.

We can not word or phrase it in our dry language, in our poetic versions or in our philosophical suppositions or logical propositions.

Life is a mystery, yet a reality too. Life is something we make pretensions about. It is dramatic and staged.

Life is a mix of God and Satan, a confluence of life and death. All in one conflated into a serialized story.

We oftentimes try to fictionalize life spinning it into fabrics of meaning in vain.

Everyone has a meaning of it, and no single meaning is true, yet all putting together or conglomerating can approximate it.

Life is not an accident or happenstance or the result of some cause beyond our comprehension.

Life is something, and nothing, being or non-being. It is timeless and ageless. Aging is phasing out a stage and evolutionarily life ascends, I do not say heavenward or hell-ward. Life goes onward or forward.

I can not contain life in words, yet the beauty of life can be added through fabrications of words.