Why death? Why this incessant funeral?
Change and decay in all around I see,
Spring into winter, winter into spring;
Ten thousand years, and what the sum of all?
A brief experience, then obscurity;
Out the brief candle, life has had its fling.
Why are we born? For what did nature call
Us into being? There lies mystery.
For what the fish in ocean, the bird on wing?
For what, in fine, the Manger and the Stall?
Because our minds are questioning there must
Somewhere in life’s din be an answer heard.
We cannot read the riddle of the dust
Unless within us speaks the awful Word !
Weekly Times 16.11.62