Solemn Reverence Poem by Christine Errett

Who am I to leave my print on this soil?
Who am I to know the reason for my being, if my very existence was never meant to occur?
Why is the world so limiting on the scope and thrust of one's mind?
When can anyone truly understand the vastness of knowledge or reason or time?
What treachery is life, when the sublime are made rough? —

All in vain, - it comes to an end, so quickly, and all for naught is the long contribution and toil
Life is so short, a fraction of a blink, so why to soil do I bind?
Where the universe is expansive and knowledge, fathomless a mere mortal never survives that climb.
They never live that long