Fleeting

Why were humans made to live?

To suffer,

and wallow,

disheartened, by what the world has to offer

Is there no other fate available to us?

Why must we endure,

in misery,

an ailment, without a cure

How can this be, my friend;

does the world near its end?

No;

We were made

to enjoy,

to rise,

encouraged, by the wholesome world

No other fate awaits us,

for we do not endure,

in anticipation,

happiness, without a cure

My friend, it is not so;

and if you looked within your heart,

you would know