Purpose

No matter how far we travel into the universe No matter how many worlds we conquer Or marvelous civilizations we meet No matter how many strange creatures we study or dissect No matter how far into the past we probe No matter how many words we write, or read There is always one step further; one more word to pen One more iota of information to uncover. Our great storehouses of knowledge do not help us survive Though we hope it will; we must believe we will survive Upon that one more grain of knowledge we all desire to know That which is just knowing: will we be forever alive. Not as a race, not through works of art Not from words of wisdom But the egoistic Self, the person, the lonesome mind What matters if there is or is not a god? The question is merely: Will I be forever. That there is life beyond life Is the dream, the hope, the blind misbegotten certainty Are we not like a drop of water That quenched a thirst for knowledge Then evaporated, but still exists? When no more doubt remains Then shall humanity crumple and fade from the universe No longer possessed Of divine quest No longer needing to survive in this land When another so surely waits. For now, the starships search the outer realms The pen transcribes the mind While seldom do we stop to reflect That if the destination were ever in hand We will have lost all purpose. circa 1973