Since Nature is so brutal, mortals crave
A supernatural deity who’ll save
Us from the terrors of mortality,
As parents once relieved our misery.
The comfort we still seek in such belief
Can never bring us absolute relief
Unless we somehow abnegate all doubt
That when we die our light will not go out.
Just as the setting sun returns at dawn
And vanished salmon come again to spawn
And seasons glide from winter into spring,
So may the soul abide, a constant thing,
Eternally returning in its season
Beyond the reckoning of our dim reason.