A pointless life has no value,
A struggle for survival on Earth,
Through the midst of suffering and joy.
Our dreams spin along this race like a revolving top,
Passing to continue until we reach the end—
Tension pulling us along the thread of reality,
Facing the hazards and truths of life.
Life is a terrestrial zone, like a fling in the sky,
Like astronauts floating in the air.
We move to and fro through the storms of life,
Sometimes unnoticed among the passing crowds,
Yet anchored in the deep motion of the earth,
Like a wreath of beautiful flowers.