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    Existence is a stage on which we pass,
    a sleepwalk trick for mind and heart:
    it's hopeless, I know,
    but onward I must go
    and try to make a start
    at seeing something more than day-to-day
    survival chased by final death.
    If I believed this the sum
    of the life to which we've come
    I wouldn't waste my breath.
    Somehow, there must be more.
    There was a time when more was felt than
    but now, entrenched inside my sett,
    in light more mundane, thought rattles round
    my brain:
    we live, we die...and yet?

    In the beginning there was order and destiny
    but now that path has reached the border, and
    on our knees
    is no way to face the future, whatever it be.
    Though the forces which hold us in place
    last through eons in unruffled grace
    we, too, wear the face of creation.

    As anti-matter sucks and pulses periodically
    the bud unfolds, the bloom is dead, all space
    is living history.
    It seems as though time must betray us, yet
    we're alive
    and though I see no God to save us still we
    through the centuries of progress
    which don't get us very far.
    All illusion! All is bogus-
    we don't yet know what we are...
    laughing, hoping, praying, joking, Son of Man!
    With lowered eyes but lifting hearts, we're
    grains of sand
    and though, in time, the sea may claim us for
    its own
    we are the rocks which root the future - on us
    it grows!

    We might not be there to share it
    if eternity's a jest
    but I think that I can bear it
    if the next life is the best.
    Even if there is a heaven when we die
    endless bliss would be as meaningless as the lie
    that always comes as answer to the question
    "Why do we see through the eyes of creation?"

    Adrift without a course, it's very lonely here,
    our only conjecture what lies behind the dark.
    Still, I find I can cling to a lifeline,
    think of a lifetime which means more
    than my own one-
    dreams of a grander thing than we are.
    Time and Space hang heavy on my shoulders:
    when all life is over who can say
    no mutated force shall remain?
    Though the towers of the city are denied to we
    men of clay
    still we know we shall scale the heights some
    Frightened in the silence-
    frightened, but thinking very hard,
    let us make computations of the stars.

    Older, wiser, sadder, blinder, watch us run;
    faster, longer, harder, stronger, now it comes:
    colour blisters, image splinters gravitate
    towards the centre, in final splendour
    The universe now beckons
    and Man, too, must take His place...
    just a few last fleeting seconds
    to wander in the waste
    and the children who were ourselves move on
    reincarnation stills its now perfected song
    and at last we are free of the bonds of creation.

    All the jokers and gaolers, all the junkies and
    slavers too,
    all the throng who have danced a merry tune-
    human we can all be,
    but Humanity we must rise above,
    in the name of all faith and hope and love.
    There's a time for all pilgrims, and a time for
    the fakers too,
    there's a time when we all will stand alone and
    naked to the galaxies-
    naked, but clothed in the overview...
    as we reach Childhood's End we must start anew.

    And though dark is the highway
    and the peak's distance breaks my heart,
    for I never shall see it, still I play my part,
    believing that what waits for us
    is the cosmos compared to the dust of the
    in the death of mere humans life shall start!

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