It baffles me daily: how we insist

That we sustain on food, water, and air.

Birds have as much; yet from us they desist.

Money's our answer, if there's plenty spared.

But these things won't save us from death's swift kiss.

Call me a romantic, but I hold this

True: as long as I follow the Light, and

He fills my bones with metaphors; in this

I find the sole use for which I was planned.

It is this I cannot live without; for

In this I'll live long beyond death's uproar.