Existentialism

All of us are people
In a rudderless boat,
Blown about
By the winds of chance
On the stormy sea of life,
With nothing above
And nothing below,
Neither gods to appeal to
Nor devils to fear
In an uncaring universe,
And in our quiet desperation,
The only way to ease our burden
Is to love each other
And make goodness our divinity.

Alfred Charasz
Copyright 2007 Alfred Charasz