If I exist for happiness and bliss,
May I be crying every night and may
I ask what no one can respond - like this?
And may I hope my life will end this day?

If I’m afraid how can I know it ends
Without be’ing conscious of my death and that
At last my fear to die is no defence;
But may I fear that I am never dead?

Can all these lines not stop the thoughts inside?
May I think all my rhymes are just the frame
To find a sense for every line I write?
And if it’s senseless, who is there to blame?

I can’t exist for bliss - but it may be
That bliss is something to exist for me.