What keeps us from dying?
What makes us afraid?
Why do we persist even when pain invades?
What makes the human condition such as it is?
That might be accounted for by the Id.
We keep going and mowing like good mortals should,
Never looking up to the land of could.
Is it our instict?
Or is there more?
The equation isn't finnished, yet we look down to the floor.
Is it the afterlife or a lack there of?
Ah yes, there's the rub!
We truley don't know what happens in the land beyond,
Is that why we're so cautious to move on?
The otherside is dark and we don't truely know,
no matter how much religion we cram down our throats.
But if you look seriously at the matter at hand,
You will find that people are only sad,
Once they have made connections in THIS land
The thing that makes us afraid and gives life meaning,
Is the relationships that we create with the here still breathing!
So don't bow to the Thought Police of hate,
Only to the love that binds our fate.