Identity

A poem about the meaning of life. Dedicated to U.G. Krishnamurti.

For all the things you build in life
to make you whole through fear and strife,
For all the money that you make
to buy the gifts you give and take,

The social construct that is you
exists to please a chosen few
and you exist in the human race
until you vanish and leave no trace.

You may just find you leave behind
some things of value for mankind,
And maybe with a little luck
you may succeed and make a buck.

But when it's time for you to die
and time to bid this world goodbye,
Your body goes back to the earth
where ants devour your flesh with mirth.

Why, yes! It really is that crude
that when you die you're insect food.
But never fear! Although you're gone,
Consciousness ends but life goes on.