Universe, Life, Infinity And Beyond Poem by welkin siskin

Is there an Ultimate Reality?
Nothing suggests there is,
Nothing suggests there is not,
It is difficult, if not valid and implausible, to assert.
Life has a purpose?
It is impossible to assert, for we are finite.
Not a scrap of reason, nonetheless, contents you.
That does not mean it doesn't have, we do not know.
Is the universe meaningless?
It doesn't for sure suggest it has a purpose,
None seems to have known it does;
That doesn't necessarily mean it is meaningless.
Is there immortality of life?
Nothing suggests for real,
That doesn't mean it does not have.
Finiteness obscures knowledge- -
that constrained mind cannot absorb and apprehend
the unseen and the unknown.
Is there a force intervening in the Universe?
Everything evidences nothing intervenes;
For objective intervention is impartial,
the bounds of joy would have been shared.
Is the Universe deterministic?
For me it is, it cannot be otherwise;
It has more evidence to suggest that it is.
Are we dualist or monist?
For me, we belong to a single source:
Be it the fount of nothingness,
The Ultimate Reality, God, or the Laws of Nature.
Our waves in deeper sense sound the same:
Our illusionary minds, our failing to know the truth- -
Whether it is an atom beyond,
or vastness inside the cosmos- -is a collective loss;
Nothing suggests we are not- -not a single thing.
Is free-will a mere phantom?
It apparently is in a deeper sense.
What purpose then life has?
There is nothing than to make it meaningful,
To learn, to live to the full,
To save the planet, to sing the chorus
Of oneness together- -with profound love,
With care and compassion for one and all;
There is no hymn sweeter than this.
What a Puzzle that in which life always falls!
Joy equals to both mystery and phantom;
Misery equals to both mystery and illusion.
Unknown to me, a web of ebony was but a life
Shaded into a mystery of the unknown;
Unknown to me, life was but a finite path
Where tales find no ample pages
To pen the enigmas,
To paint the rainbow of colors it retains,
To sort out the riddle it owns