The questions keep recurring… of life and of me.
Endless trains of the faithless, the foolish and I
Forever reproaching myself to the degree
That anything else I am unable to see
Is the reason I care not to give life a try.
Why is there such a problem for me just To Be?

…Of the eyes that crave vainly artificial light
And the struggle renewed, I face down in the sand
For the moment intense now due but to my grief.
Emptiness is becoming. I have no belief
In a thing because so much I can’t understand.
All the world full of sickness… There’s nothing alright.

Of the poor results of all the painful plodding
And the sordid crowds I see around me empty
And the useless years wasted in unneeded rest
Intertwined, I through torment, can do but my best
To answer the big question, “Oh, my life; oh me.”
Unless I can feel better I can’t do a thing.

…And it passes. These times and I must fade away
To eternity’s locker. What I have right here
Is a life of some richness and identity.
I can look around me and be glad to be free.
Power plays that take place in the world atmosphere
Are part of human nature. It’s destined to stay.