A Poetic Interlude

I wrote this earlier this week, and since I don't have anything else to post...

What then do you call your purpose, O fragile Man?
To possess a little, if you can?
Were your feeble bones born to break?
Do you sleep because you wake?

Sure, why ask, what one can know?
See it in the deeds you sow!
The meaning of your every breath,
Imbues your choices ere your death.

You build with sticks and then with stones,
Things that crumble like your bones.
You take, you steal, you earn, you horde,
Yet time rescinds your own reward!

That which does not soon decay,
Or by forceful means is got away,
Will be lost in final sleep.
Is there nothing you shall keep?

The husk of flesh bears within,
A light outshining even sin.
The image make of God himself,
A place to put immortal wealth.

But folly to such knowledge earn,
As would make one pleasures spurn,
And force upon, the narrow good,
Robbing life of livelihood.

To Heaven keep a shielded eye!
And think no further than you die,
Lest Perspective like a shameless thief,
Change gain for loss and wealth for grief.

Enjoy devils' gifts and devils' drink!
They share them gladly as they think,
Sub specie aeternitatis,
Creaturae omnes peritis.