Ah, what manner of men are we,
Brute beast and nothing but a pack of sand are we,
Believing we lack nothing,
Not knowing we have nothing.
Silver and many gold,
These we have in abundance,
But poorer are we,
When we measure our wealth in money.
We walk like princes and act like kings,
Thinking we are gods of ourselves,
Yet like drunk babies, grouping in darkness,
So the Almighty does look on us.
Empty are we,
The moment we become full of ourselves,
And nothing we have,
When we think nothing we lack.
Alas, for we are nothing,
And yes, we have nothing,
Because after having everything,
We realize, we still have need for something.
How then are we complete,
What then are we satisfied with,
Of what use if we feel incomplete,
When we think we have gained everything.
We are nothing and we have nothing,
A pack of dust and an empty life,
Spinning around like a broken compass,
Waiting to return to mother earth.
it’s a beautiful world.