If fate opposed is useless, what great need
is there to challenge dark despair\'s great power
when spirit dies, and soul, mind, body bleed,
as life wilts like a melancholic flower?
When lungs give way, and breath begins to drown,
should existence (and search for meaning, purpose,
wealth, glory, fame, which enshrines the renown,
and lauds their pride) be vain and superfluous?
But sculpting lines transforms life\'s dreadful deluge,
as song calms the tempestuous, mental climes,
like a moored buoy that delivers refuge
through this apocalyptic end of time.
So, minds intensely brooding should beware,
lest dark, grave truths lead to their deep despair!