Is man truly just a thing of naught?
A shadow destined simply to fade away?
A passing apparition which cannot be caught?
A roaming itinerant who can never stay?
Is man's life in the course of time just a dot?
And for history merely a transient prey?

And what can be said of man's soul?
Is it an imponderable or is it real?
Is it truly essential to make man whole?
Does man's soul now lie under sacred seal?
Is its name kept secret on Heaven's scroll,
Finally and only for eternity to reveal?

Under what conditions was man's soul wrought?
Is it innate, inherent, or perhaps incarnate?
Something by principalities and powers sought?
Is it indeed an ethereal only God can create,
But only in the currency of blood is bought,
And never a thing of weight left in probate?