Like fresh graves in a landslide
We will all be swept away;
No where to run; no where to hide
In cosmology's entropic day.
And what a ghastly thing it is
To see the sparkle in a human face
As another ghost to fail the quiz
Of human purpose in this tragic place
Which Heraclitus said was strife,
All those ages long ago,
Betwixt the reaper...and midwife,
In biochemical adagio...
For an all too brief attention span,
Optimistically...the mind of man.