‘What’, You Ask, ‘Is To Be Done?’

‘What’, you ask, ‘is to be done?’

‘Nothing’, I say, ‘just watch the fun

Of this world’s most strange show,

See how things here come and go,

How they appear and leave the stage,

Doing the same from age to age,

For nothing here forever remains,

No joy, no sorrow, no worldly pains,

They come, stay and then move on,

For a while appearing and soon gone.

Don’t ask me why this must be so,

Ah! This how we crave to know!

What if someone were of this to say:

“It’s just a show, a mere shadow play,

Directed, acted, watched also, too,

By the One who’s all, including you”?’