We are thrown to the Earth -- what for?
Without even the least mark to bear,
Waves that toss and **** and side the shore.
In the breaking ocean -- what glory is there?

Still I cannot think by chance it's kept,
For we share time and its passing, fleet,
For our eyes, find the other's step,
Our voices, their echoes meet.

Rathering shed our memory, more our name,
Of the climbing dawn, our love beneath it,
Than serve cruel reason and falsely claim,
We hadn't been born to see it.