The meaninglessness of the Universe, in a glimpse I think I comprehend
With all sound and fury spun around me, why is it that we still choose to take a stand?
What possesses us to laugh and smile and dance and sing?
Why should the butterfly of my heart care to wait for spring?
What meaning is there when all that's true is bound to perish?
The last of the butterflies thinks that all of nature is here to cherish
Yet as I look upon its fate, its worn out wings, its careless flight
I cannot help but think that what is true is eclipsed by night
But the lonesome butterfly still flies around in a field of daisies
It thinks nothing of the Universe, its whole short life it simply dances
Then who are we that cry out into endless space, "What is there for me?"
The Universe is always silent, its mocking echo of "just let it be."
But when that fragile butterfly, with its carefree stare
Looks upon the flowers and sees that no one's there
Does it not have the same urge to cry out, "Who is there for me?"
And when its echoes fall deaf upon the sun dried flowers
Does it keep dancing or does it all of a sudden cower?
Does it feel the universal emptiness weigh heavy on its wings?
Does it care at that moment that the beautiful song bird sings?
Poem by Yamagemazaki
