I sit in the kitchen, and wonder and ask:
Why am I alive- what's my purpose, my task ?
Get rich, fat and greedy, and have a great time
before I will leave this world, right in my prime...

But that can't be it. For the last shirt I'll wear
(-the one I'll be dressed in when death I will bear-)
That shirt got no pockets- No silver or gold
which I'd want to take can be carried, I'm told.

So I just sit there and keep thinking. What if
the reason for life is quite simply ‘to live’ :
To be simply grateful to breathe, and delight
in life's little gifts, day by day, night by night… ?

Those treasures which fit in one's pockets- just dreams!
in truth are quite worthless, and so it just seems
that those which I reap with my eyes- not those bought!
are those I should carry along, in my thought...

(WJB)