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.