Our birth has come . . .

We may live, or we may die.

The sun might be shining, or maybe not.

It could be winter or spring;

Perhaps it’s summer or fall.

We have no guarantee at all.

Maybe we are blessed with health;

Cursed with disease; or lame;

Our parents may be good, or bad;

Show love, or abuse.

We could be given food and shelter;

Thrown in a dumpster; or given away.

Life is certain of nothing.

There is no hope; no promise; no light.

If all is doomed into eternity,

No sense could be made of existence.

The only ray, far into the tunnel of life;

To know there is supreme, divine authority.