What is defeat? What is victory?

Does one defeat oneself? What does one do when feelings of malaise and helplessness envelops one like a blanket stifling creativity and expansiveness? It is a feeling that makes one feel that death might bring more excitement. Someone said that death is not a good option for there is no future in it. What good is life is all one has is a parade of days each like the other? When one is shunted aside to be as a piece of twig, too small to be food for the fire and serve some purpose as giving warmth on a cold night.

Does one wait for entropy to claim him? Like a caterpillar rendered helpless by the sting of a wasp which completely immobilizes it but keeping it alive nevertheles to be devoured by the wasp's hungry larvae. Life is rational if anything. There is a reason for living even if it is to be food for something else. There is no judgement, no protestations, no eulogy. There is only order and sequence that leads to the evolution of consciousness. Pain lives.

Does the wasp see the brilliant sunrise? Is the caterpillar moved by a seaside sunset? What of the aching soul that sees beyond imagination?