Frail is life on this orb
And we all eventually die.
The most hard-hearted man
Clutches his pillow like a child
Dreams of a great hand stroking his hair
And a warm blanket around him
The gush of milk through his mouth
Because he is frail, as we are all frail.
Any insult to his paper-thin ego
Spears through his armour and reminds
That he is a frail, fleshy thing
Reaching for an immortal light
That he can never reach.
Did you know that all war and violence
Comes from the failure to accept
How frail we really are?
Our DNA, our bones, our species legacy
The mysterious thing that will survive us.
That alone is not frail.
It will fight to the end, boxing with eternity
Defying the impossible to survive
Like weeds clinging to the bricks of a house
Or an insect roaming over a savannah of concrete
Like lice nesting inside an eaten-out corpse
Or a lost chick forced to be courageous.
God cannot save us
Science cannot sustain us
Nature will eventually devour us.
Sometimes I see a mocking skull
Appear at moments of misfortune
And laugh at us!
But it is all OK.
When a campfire burns,
Some embers fly high
Others are dragged down,
But all are swiftly put out.
This is just how it is.