Absurd

Life is but the fleeting dream of a passing butterfly,
death is as ephemeral as the sun
a newborn sees for the first time

Fate, Life, and Death,
all as intangible
as the worshiping smoke
from the candles and joss sticks
by our graves.

Our consciousness, the push-pull Chaos
of myriad worlds and whims and wills
within ourselves,
rarely getting along,
or making decisions.

Many worries, little meaning;
would the ant still be sane,
if he questioned what meaning he has?

To what end then, if all is transient like smoke
and intangible like our memories?

For the joy of it;
For the love of all!