I’ve thought of this before
And I’ll think of it again:
What’s the purpose of creation,
And of angels, jinn and men?
What’s the purpose of the earth
As around and round it spins
Bearing all its many children
And their many, many sins?
What’s the purpose of the sky,
Of the stars and of the sun?
Each is born and wont to die
When the time of time is done.
As we turn and spin about
Through the dawn and afternoon,
Just before and after dusk
And through the passing of the moon,
There are jinn and there are men
Spanning every longitude,
There are angels flocking by
At each and every altitude
Such that every breath of time
Sends a prayer floating, one
That outlives the life of rhyme
And outshines the shine of sun.
When this planet stops to turn,
And the breath of time is spent,
All that’s left is is left to burn,
And what isn’t can’t repent.
So the form and the function
Help us out here once again
With the purpose of creation,
And of angels, jinn and men.
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