Interlude...

From the moment we are born
We die - little by little,
Every passing day,
And often ask ourselves:
Why does it have to be that way?
We're born in pain,
Struggle along
And die in vain.
What purpose serves such irony?
If nature or the gods be good,
Why put us through such agony?
They say that life is but a dream
Constructed by our senses
- an illusion,
Could this be the conclusion?
Yet, to us, our brief span of life
Can only be an
Incomprehensible reality
From its inception
To its cruel finality,
As such, life has no meaning
- no utility
Except as an exercise
In blind futility.
This is why man can
Only be a realist,
Never to waste his time
As an idealist,
For there is nothing
Between life and death
One may with certainty conclude,
Except to make the best of it,
Try to enjoy the interlude...

Alfred Charasz
Copyright 2007 Alfred Charasz