Existence Poem by Hannington Mumo

Life is that unrecyclable thing that goes forever,
Never comes again, transforms into an unknown form,
And is left here on earth the mere name of a mortal
Who once WAS before he was finally summoned home.

A non-reusable stuff that is best fully consumed:
Turned side after side and mauled in vast bites,
For the bearer knows neither the day nor the hour,
When the Giver may descend to end the mortal rites.

Fellow men, let's the fullest use this amenity,
For none is sure of the coming second's news,
Let's congregate and together cherish this lent gift,
Before the lender says its time to kiss the blues.

Love and love alone, for the rest is naught;
Hatred is too long for an existence shortly lent,
Squabbles are too expensive for a bonus freely given;
The best is to honor the Giver and be in obeisance bent.

This bequest is best consumed in concord and harmony,
And in the awareness of its belonging to Another,
And handled with care for the Benefactor rates utility:
He's the Loving Creator, and the Benevolent Father.