Yes, we are animals and born to die,
And though we understand the reason why
By biologic logic, still we wonder
Why our precious fabric’s torn asunder.
A hundred years, at best, of consciousness
Is what we hope for, calling it success
If by that time our conscience is more bright
Than tarnished, and our weary heart still light.
But then at death’s door we may ask again
Why all our travails must be borne and when
If ever we may know with certainty
If there’s some reason we should ever be.
Why are we born, why do we live and die?
Let’s hope we’ll know by revelation why.