We Are What, That Exists? Poem by Thomas Stearn

We are what, that exists on this strange rock?
Of complex intricate systems, spiralling into knots.
Who are we in this vast expanding sphere of stars?
Where we are all but a spec of nothingness,
Lost and alone in the tranquil abyss.

Black seas of luminous ships sail for all eternity,
And through the emptiness therein lies a passage
To a void where we can never hope to reach,
Nor understand.

Only grass, rock, and moon; and the sky that opens
Like a Gateway to the vessels that light the heavens.
We must choose our ship in the black sea,
For our precious earth has turned sour by cold hands
And gazed upon by hard eyes.

O! So foolish in doing and blind to our faults,
To live by night and act small by day.
To call ourselves lesser beings than our so-called
Superiors, what a hard lie and heavy burden to carry.

What is it we seek from life on this strange rock?
A love to cherish, a city to live in, a mountain to climb.
Continents to explore and monuments to find,
To admire a lost time immemorial.

Who daresay man cannot lay his path on cobbled ground,
Or free himself from laden chains that bind iron to rock.
Do not assume with hard eyes, but gaze with open minds.
Have strength to try and courage to do.
Fail now and triumph later.

We must arise! Citizens of earth, brave souls and courageous hearts.
It is not birth, nor death that weights measure of life lived,
But the space in-between on white pebble stone.
What will it say; a life long lived, or a life lived and done?