Purpose

No matter how far we travel into the universe No matter how many worlds we conquer Or marvelous civilizations we encounter No matter how many creatures we dissect 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 storehouses of knowledge Do not help us survive Though we hope they will; For we must believe we will continue. It all depends upon One more grain of knowledge A puzzle with the answer we all desire Then will we be forever. Not as a race entire, Not through works of art Not from words of wisdom, Conquest or slaughter, But the egoistic Self, The person, the arrogant mind; What matters if there is or is not a god? The query is merely: Will I be forever. That there is life beyond life Is the dream, the hope, Of blind misbegotten certainty. Are we not like a drop of water That quenched a thirst for knowledge Then evaporated, but still exists? Please do not suppose "We are not." When no more doubt remains Then shall humanity crumple And fade from the universe No longer possessed Of the undivine quest No longer needing to persist in this land When another, we insist, so surely waits. For now, the starships search outer realms The pen transcribes the mind While seldom do we stop to reflect how If ever the destination is at hand We will have lost all purpose. c1973 An earnest poem from my youth, tossed in a file box and stored away lo these many decades.