Who are we?

"Who are we?"

Who am I really? Am I even real?
A sprinkle on Earth’s cake I very well may be…
A drop in mother natures well,
Perhaps on life’s seashore I’m but a shell?
What have we in this life we live?
Material desires, unaccomplished dreams,
So simple yet so difficult our journey seems,
As we all walk our separate roads under Sun’s beams.
Yet who are we? In what do we have say?
And in eternity of life we’re but a day,
A nanosecond in the hour ticking by,
A blade of grass on the horizon line…
Why do we torture nature hence?
And for protection, we build up an unseen fence,
To guard our insignificant pretensions,
For in this world, our being makes no sense,
We may as well be but a period to end this sentence.
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