You merely drifted into your dark wood;
we did one better: strode with head held high,
Self-possessed in our vision of the Good,
convinced our nature was to quantify
our lives, tipped the scale to the present tense,
and so lost sight of what it means to die.
The balance lost, we cling with insolence
to what we think is life, our certainty
converting hubris into common sense,
so many positive eternity
in the quest for meaning has nothing to give;
we’ve cast aside the sense of tragedy,
broke the tension in which we’re fated to live,
abandoned Spirit for the Relative.