Meaning of life is to fulfill, on the off chance that anything
Has a purpose of why, we are living
Life is either a pointless, mishap sling
Functioning in a making universe
Of extraordinary arrangement practice
Life proposes that its future isn't known
And is the encapsulation of self·ish·ness
Cause it is for itself, in two different ways shown
For its own endurance, regardless
For its own generation, explicitness
Life is by far, an insecure pur·vey·or
Lacking for it to be the doom
A mobile shadow, a helpless player
That swaggers and frets its hour upon life bloom
And is heard somewhere down in bowels of earth
In it will assemble, the dead life seeds
In an excursion to the burial tomb
It will spread in limitless space needs
For the following, huge, heavenly boom
And fledgling from another ce·les·tial womb
© daniel miltz
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem