Because what we now have is a life
we will never have again, something
as unrepeatable as living or dying,
we drink to it as often as we turn down
an empty cup, and learn to forgive
what was given or not, noblese oblige,
coming as we do to this strange place
without as much as a warning or even
our consent. We did not know.
Because we did not plan to be born,
is it too vexing to learn--perhaps
to revel in--the myriad acts of loving,
of living, and in return be grateful
to perform the surprisingly magical art
of shaping life, nurturing it, finding it
where no one would lead us, blind
as we are to this fire in our weak loins?
Was that left behind by a rushed maker,
like a spare screw, and we had to find
where it would fit snugly, divinely apt
and delicately, deliciously, our manner
of staying alive when dying is better?
--- ALBERT B. CASUGA