Since ancient times crowds of men have asked:
What is the purpose of life?
Me included.
Since my later teens and into my sixties
I have wrestled with this question.

To me, it was never about wealth or status.
People waste their time
With such things.

So what should we do
That is Really Good?
WHAT is “Good”?

For me, Life as such is Good.
What use is the Universe,
With its sprawling galaxies
Of fire, rock, dust, water:
Incredible vistas
Shock awe
Eternally Infinite
What use without
A Witness?

We are that Witness,
But should we be much more?
And all I can think
Is to cherish all that lives,
As life itself
Is the most wondrous thing
Of all.

Our purpose then is to nurture
Life at it’s best:
To make it better and better:
Stronger and brighter
More intelligent
With more Love and compassion.

Some will say
Why ask?
Extraterrestrials may have
Another View.
We may be but bacterial infestations
To be cleansed away.

Yet other “Aliens” may well agree
With every word I type.
And like many of us humans
They may be warning
That we must take
Much better care
Of this Paradise
We call Earth.

I call myself a “Lifist”
A believer in
Christianity at it’s best
(But Not it’s worst),
And other Religions too…

So let’s take the best
Of these Beliefs,
Nurture Nature,
Love Life
And just
Get on with it.

Paul Butters

© PB 31\7\2019.

and mankind came together
on that July day

as they watched the historic
landing on the moon's lay

it was an event every corner
of the earth shall recall

the scientific endeavor
did so marvelously enthrall

Beautiful Sylvain valleys and grassy savannas sooth my soul,
As here within my compact brain-cave
My mind wanders
Though a Multiverse
Of Realms.

From unfathomable gorges and deep down oceans
Up to soaring skies,
My inner eyes take in
Vistas of Infinity.

Imagination has no limits
Being a blessing and a curse.
Endless dreams of gold and honey
Opposed by fears of monstrous evils
Too horrific to ponder here.

My Id keeps churning up all manner of memories
And creations of the brain,
While in the background
Music plays
Punctuated only
By my Inner Voice.

Words, words keep welling up
From subliminal springs
Deep within my head.
Words, images, sounds
Feelings, tastes and smells,
Reality processed and reformed.

Reality recreated indeed
In finest detail,
A confusion of sights and sounds.
Give me those balmy days,
High in the hills
And low on the plains.
Let me bask in glorious sunshine,
Take a slumberous siesta
Then quaff that golden nectar:
Any brew will do.

Lets be kings and queens
Of the poetic landscape
Enjoying all
That The Muses
Will sing.

Paul Butters
© PB 26\6\2019.

Do not take glory from conquests and wins
Or climbing stairways into ivory towers.
Rather, take glory in Mother Nature’s work
And glorious sunrises and sunsets.

Oh those sun-down colours: reds and golds,
Deep purples backed by azure blue hues.
Every sunset unique
Like every swirl of clouds.

Yes every sky is different.
My mind makes pictures from those clouds
Except on days of formless, fathomless mists.

Beneath these skies
We have a lovely vista
Of trees and savannah.
Satellites show us a wondrous world
Full of amazing sights.

But best of all we have
People
And animals
Of all kind.

Folks with whom to share
This glory
The real glory,
Every day we waken
To greet the new bright day.

Paul Butters

© PB 29\5\2019.

Being or not being,
Existence or no existence:
That is the fifty-fifty question,
The flip of the coin.

Everything is down to this –
Pure chance.
A celestial bet.

Yet can non-existence exist
Without existence?
Was it all inevitable?
Mathematical formulae
Beyond the mortal mind?

There may be some answer here,
To this cosmic riddle.
But it’s way above
My intellectual scope.

We can choose
Or grow
Our Gods
And hope for spiritual
Redemption.

But fully knowing
What it’s all about
May never be achieved
No matter how hard
We try.

All we can do is make the most
Of what Lady Luck
Has spawned
To us.
Thank Goodness
That we are here,
Take care of our world
And hope
That Life will last.

Paul Butters

© PB 24\5\2019.

Our bright blue world
Shines across space
A beautiful beacon
That shouts
Life!

A sphere swathed in clouds
That when seen from the surface
Present endless shapes
Which change from minute to minute.

Shapes never the same thing twice
And on a misty, murky day
Totally formless.

Below these clouds and mists are further clouds:
Of leaves on lofty trees
And flocks of birds.
Swarms of insects
And dust storms in the desert.

But in the greater scheme of things
Ours is an ocean world
Bathed in water.
A Paradise of trees and grass
Dotted with a vast array
Of animal life.

A planet clothed in forest
And flowery meadows:
Providing oxygen for all who breathe.

So all I have to say
Today
Is please don’t cut those forests
Down.

Paul Butters

© PB 8\5\2019.