What is life?

What is it? Fortunately, William Shakespeare gave us this answer long ago in an poetic way. In his poem All The World's A Stage from the play As You Like It.
Here it goes:

William Shakespeare, 1564 - 1616

Jaques to Duke Senior

                      All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

Isn't that what life is? A world stage where we just come, then play our part and depart from there. From his perspective as an poet, it's a ideal metaphor to describe life as an actor/actress playing our part on a world stage. As in a way life lies in between birth and death. It is just about living the time we receive, trying to be optimistic against all odds and spreading a big smile. Often times, people make life complicated by overthinking about it. In reality, life is not as philosophical as people make it. In fact you could say its cruel.