Why?
No compliance
Neither
had nor was asked I
For
my very existence;
Nor for the suffering
I passed through the year gone by,
Nor for the briefness of my
blissful moments;
Yet I feel like living
knowing not why.
In the realm of existence,
Where life like lightening strikes
Yet to pass by;
And in the portrait of butter fly
By the splendor of flowers guided
to the ends
Where end is not certain but sigh.
In the search of eternity
Buried in the quest of the soul is
WHY?
Why should I live?
Why should I die?
Why are these ends undetermined?
When what counts in existence is I?
Yet, before the answers came from where ever they could have, behold,
Bearing
sad faces veiled in eternal wits the world stood;
Chanting
all the farewells and dirges in the graveyard
Where
my body upon the laps of earth was laid,
Of
the paradox threaded;
And
yet, of its mentor-ship what I learned of existence tells:
Life
is but a shadow of uncertain body of eternity
That
sanctifies conformity
In
the absence of obedience:
A
mysterious feeble spot in its body of strength
Which
attests the Achilles hills
Of
its own existence
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