anonymous
2010-04-18 06:52:50 UTC
So what is life if not a jest
played by the gods in far-flung realms?
While mortals strive and are oppressed,
enduring that which overwhelms
if they'd allow it, and not try
to lift themselves from out the dust.
Far better to press on than die,
'though day's reward is but a crust.
For man, one day, shall heights attain
and sever all that ties him down;
that treasured prize shall surely gain
and wear himself a cosmic crown.
For in the image of the gods
was man created that great day,
and destined to be more than clods
of soulless, lifeless, worthless clay.
So on man strives towards his goal
when he shall reign one day on high;
the triumph of the human soul
refusing to lay down and die.
Remember then, from day to day,
and to one's heart this great truth clasp -
don't let one's limits bar the way,
man's reach should e'er exceed his grasp.
And when that day is here at last
and man himself is like a god,
he then shall rule, both firm and fast,
no more a creature of the sod.
Who cares if life is but a jest
which at this time does sorely chaff?
Man trusts one day to pass the test -
then his shall be the long, last laugh.