What a waste will be all this
if all this life is all there is.
What will all the good breed,
or all the wickedness feed?

What thoughts set out to achieve,
the deeds done set out to receive.
Men are born to die all alone,
as they always lived all alone.

It goes without much comment,
that now is always the moment,
to do and be done with all doing,
for life is forever for the living.

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