What is it to live but to die?
Why is it that we pine to fly?
We seek to further explore
in hopes that there might be more,
but we cannot avoid our end,
so the ageless question begins.
Who or what brought us here?
And, what is it we want to hear?
A creator implies cruelty,
and phenomenon means futility,
so, perhaps, we are a reflection—
the universe gaining dimension.
But does that still explain
that when life begins to wane,
our presence will be no more,
and it really is just a void?