Perhaps it is of no significance
To dutifully sit and meditate
Upon the mystery of this mortal state,
But was it by decree or aimless chance
The spinning particles began their dance?
The fiat of a mind immensurate
Or random matter that we contemplate?
We rack our brains to cure this ignorance.
Consider then our lives: does it seem just
That struggling from the moment of our birth
We come through all the trouble and the strife,
Our lessons learned - we turn again to dust
And leave our precious gains behind on earth?
Ah! Death’s the price that we must pay – for life!

John Ward March 2005