Poem

Some come here to sit and think...

Just kidding. But here's the product of some early morning bordom:

In the end it will all be clear,
Why on earth God put us here.
But until the day on which I die,
I'll have to settle on wondering why.
But it's no so bad and I'll not complain,
Because life is good all the same.
So why should I end my time on earth,
This wondrous place of my happy birth,
Just to find out why I was there,
And end the reason for me to even care?