A Song of Life

Lost in the tiny world they dwell in,
They live, breathing in what the air lends,
Consuming the fruits their trees yield,
And fending from work their fields need,

Oh they seek their joy in the sun that shines,
And in the dark when the moon hides or wanes,
Begetting children their bodies bear,
And providing for them for they know they must,

Smiling in the delight they bring to others,
A gift for a wife and a toy for a child,
Beings whose true form they know not,
And yet, count, in vain, as their own,

Oh what a life, this pathetic life,
Racing ahead as age rises,
It slows down when they wish to leave,
Stretching old age so the horizon's unseen,

Blinded by the misery of their present,
They await their end, passing day and night,
And when peace might come some quiet day,
Their breath leaves, so sudden, so quick,

Oh what was the purpose of this strange existence?
A question that shines brighter than the liver,
When asked, it flows through the woods, o'er the fields,
And the answer? It's a lifeless, cold corpse they left behind.