Beautiful and pointless are
My dreams —
Often unremembered
After birth

Much the same is true of
Human lives —
But that’s no real measure of

Their worth

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Tell me, autumn, do you know
Why it is I dream of you?
Can you see humanity
Reaching for what’s good or true?

Tell me, autumn, graciously,
Why we crawl but long to fly,
And the reason that we strive
Not to know, but to know

Why