Thursday, March 18, 2010


In our lives things go wrong. Now why is that?
Is there a way of health and happiness
Leading to bliss and beauty’s habitat,
Where ill is healed and sorrow finds redress?

In this life there’s no firm security.
We are the toys of Mutability
And destined to a sad mortality:
That is our lot. That’s our reality.

But why is that? Why do we even ask?
We ask because we can, and maybe that
Suggests the answer we all seek: our task
Is not to find, but make, that habitat—

A haven and a heaven here on Earth
That finally will justify our birth.