We live and we call it life. But is it?
Oh, yes, many call it a blessing.
A gift so precious, it is the most valued.
What lengths man would pursue for it.
But then we continue to ask for answers.
Why is it so full of deaths and afflictions?
Such a repository of snares, enemies, and ills?
So many calamities, miseries, and enemies.
And even whilst the first of those are still with us,
Others crowd in to harass our benighted living.
And no doubt we heap blame on the world.
Not really knowing why we are so attached to it.
Unable to detach from such strong bonds.
We blame it for its addictive vanity and deceit.
Unable to fathom the real reason why.
When in all honesty the problem is us.
