I have loved, and I have hated,
Yet
my life spans only six and ten years.
To
express my joy and my sorrow,
The
noble Apollo has let the sun shine,
And
reveal the muses to me.
But
is there a use
For
love, for sorrow,
That
will make existence
Purposeful?
The
question has been asked
Not
once, but countless
Hundred
of thousands.
Were
we formed for the purpose
Of
pleasure of a sadistic audience,
As
gladiators fighting for survival
Under
the watchful eye of Roman citizens?
Nay.
Rather that we are destined
To
accompany a lonely God
In
His heavenly realm
After
this short life.
If
life be short comparatively,
What
is the difference
Twixt
nine and seventy
and
six and ten years,
If
they be well spent?
Yet
the question should be
Whether
I would be willing to
Yield
my existence
After
only my short decade and half.
To
answer, "Nay" would be folly
Since
I have experienced much;
But
to miss out on more
Of
life, and of what can be reaped,
Would
cause my heart to bleed.
