The purpose of life, in other words the meaning of our existence;
Times of joy and cheery tones;
Times of strife and broken bones;
Harkens onward, moving to time’s trumpeting insistence.
Some stride forward pushing against the forceful gale;
They work hard for heart’s content;
For them their destination heaven sent;
Obstacles abound they struggle on, ever on into the pale.
Ever fighting for lofty goal, ever working to achieve;
Fortune or health;
Fame or wealth;
Through long winter’s day and hot summer’s night they earn their just reprieve.
I know not what these strive for, the importance is journey taken,
With their effort and skill;
And their tireless will;
I smile and rejoice in life well spent and in time unforsaken.
Yet others plod on more slowly yet along the river’s flow;
As does cattle on the move;
Ever onward a mindless drove;
Ne’er accounting for rock or rapid, ne’er lift hand to row.
An observer am I on this oft’ harsh road;
Careful to guard my way;
Hard at times my tongue to stay,
I lash out in judgment, as if spoken some long lost code.
Attempt to stir the longing heart, set them all ablaze!
They stare at me with sightless eyes;
Their own pleasure is their prize;
All pronouncements on deaf ear falls, no sun light to burn the haze.
I pity these, the wretched souls in anguish and despair;
No life is this;
Their purpose amiss;
Living moment to moment, care to care.
Still onward the mewling sheep do continue their menial lives;
One day to the next they live;
Thought to excel none shall give;
On and on they sadly plod along, knowing not the meaning of life.