Existence is a stage on which we pass, a
Sleep-walk trick for mind and heart:
It’s hopeless, I know,
But onward I must go
And try to make a start
At seeing something more than day-to-day
Survival chased by final death.
If I believed this the sum
Of the life to which we’ve come
I wouldn’t waste my breath.
Somehow, there must be more.
There was a time when more was felt than
Known,
But now, entrenched inside my sett,
In light more mundane, thought rattles
Round my brain;
We live, we die… and yet?
In the beginning there was order and
Destiny but now that path has reached the
Border and on our knees is no way to face
The future, whatever it be.
Though the forces which hold us in place
Last through eons in unruffled grace
We, too, wear the face of creation
As anti-matter sucks and pulses
Periodically the bud unfolds, the bloom
Is dead, all space is living history.
It seems as though time must betray us,
Yet we’re alive
And though I see no God to save us still we
Survive
Through the centuries of progress
Which don’t get us very far.
All illusion! All is bogus — we don’t yet
Know what we are… laughing, hoping
Praying, joking, Son of Man!
With lowered eyes but lifting hearts,
We’re grains of sand
And though, in time, the sea may claim us
For its own
We are the rocks which root the future —
On us it grows!
We might not be there to share it if
Eternity’s a jest