| Existence is a stage on which we pass
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| A sleepwalk trick for mind and heart;
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| It’s hopeless, I know, but onward I must go
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| And try to make a start
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| At seeing something more
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| Than day to day survival, chased by final death
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| If I believed this the sum of the life to which we’ve come
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| I wouldn’t waste my breath
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| Somehow, there must be more
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| There was a time when more was felt than known
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| But now, entrenched inside my sett
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| In light more mundane, thought rattles round my brain:
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| We live, we die… and yet?
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| In the beginning there was order and destiny
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| But now that path has reached the border
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| And on our knees is no way to face the future, whatever it be
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| Though the forces which hold us in place
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| Last through eons in unruffled grace
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| We, too, wear the face of creation
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| As anti-matter sucks and pulses periodically
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| The bud unfolds, the bloom is dead, all space is living history
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| It seems as though time must betray us yet we’re alive
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| And though I see no God to save us, still we survive
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| Through the centuries of progress
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| Which don’t get us very far
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| All illusion! |
| All is bogus…
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| We don’t yet know what we are
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| Laughing, hoping, praying, joking, Son of Man
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| With lowered eyes but lifting hearts, we’re grains of sand
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| And though, in time, the sea may claim us for its own
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| We are the rocks which root the future — on us it grows!
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| We might not be there to share it
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| If eternity’s a jest but I think that I can bear it
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| If the next life is the best
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| Even if there is a heaven when we die
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| Endless bliss would be as meaningless as the lie
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| That always comes as answer to the question
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| «Why do we see through the eyes of creation?»
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| Adrift without a course
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| It’s very lonely here
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| Our only conjecture
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| What lies behind the dark
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| Still, I find I can cling to a lifeline
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| Think of a lifetime which means more than my own one
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| Dreams of a grander thing than we are
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| Time and Space hang heavy on my shoulders…
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| When all life is over who can say
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| No mutated force shall remain?
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| Though the towers of the city are denied to we men of clay
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| Still we know we shall scale the heights some day
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| Frightened in the silence, frightened, but thinking very hard
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| Let us make computations of the stars
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| Older, wiser, sadder, blinder, watch us run:
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| Faster, longer, harder, stronger, now it comes…
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| Colour blisters, image splinters gravitate
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| Towards the centre, in final splendour disintegrate
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| The universe now beckons
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| And Man, too, must take His place;
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| Just a few last fleeting seconds
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| To wander in the waste
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| And the children who were ourselves move on
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| Reincarnation stills its now perfected song
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| And at last we are free of the bonds of creation
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| All the jokers and gaolers, all the junkies and slavers too
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| All the throng who have danced a merry tune…
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| Human we can all be, but Humanity we must rise above
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| In the name of all faith and hope and love
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| There’s a time for all pilgrims, and a time for the fakers too
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| There’s a time when we all will stand alone and nude
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| Naked to the galaxies… naked, but clothed in the overview:
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| As we reach Childhood’s End we must start anew
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| And though dark is the highway
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| And the peak’s distance breaks my heart
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| For I never shall see it, still I play my part
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| Believing that what waits for us
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| Is the cosmos compared to the dust of the past
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| In the death of mere Humans Life shall start! |