What is Man
 
 

When I gaze into the sky at night,
Into the infinite expanse of space
With its myriad points of light,
I feel that man is out of place.

"What is man!" the psalmist cried,
"That you, O God are mindful of him?"
And ever since then man has tried
To find if life is a mere whim.

A sudden, impulsive desire
By some unfathomable thought,
Whose very nature would require
That continuous change is wrought.

Is man, then, the ultimate form?
The end product of Creation?
Or is he so below the norm
As to defy explanation?

What is the purpose of it all?
Why are we here? To live ... to die?
Are we destined for a higher call?
Is there an answer to this "Why?"

Empangeni, 2001.
 

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