Thy Mortal, Self. Poem by Michael Gale

Why must we exit, this sphere, down here? ...
Why must we clear, something, we hold so dear?

Must we go away, to a new life, we know not how? ...
Must we go away from all, to test our knowledge,
enough, en-ow?

This shell, be mortal...
Why must we enter, thy portal?

Why should we wish to see the light? ...
What of heart, should we delight?

A trip, departed, from this birth...
Why, oh why, must we exit this Earth?

No more, are we to again to live....
Nothing, no more, to substantially, give.