Poetry On Life And Death

We’re all just dying for a purpose to live?

And in the end, we realize that life and death are just words. What are your thoughts on life and death, and the importance of detail in this reality?
(I would love to hear your poetry on this subject, it’s a current fascination of mine.)
Here’s a poem of mine, earned me an A in my Philosophy class.

here at Division and Main

perception altered and in good shape
many years go by in that moment
as we stand at Division and Main
the intersection of reality
and not for the last time

we die in each others’ worlds here
where the grass is soft like cotton
and delusion dances the streets
straight off into nowhere
not alone
and not for the last time

here we tremble and drown
our philosophy turned black
by the revelation that, in the end,
life and death are just words
sung in a song
gone horribly wrong
for this is the very last time

Copyright ©2007 Cassaundra Lynn Walgenbach

We cannot live as mortals so do the machines. Our skin is frail. We live to die. That’s our purpose. From soil we are born to the soil we go, as ashes or as flesh. Our life is a game of birth and death – we die to make way for others(Birth of a off-spring), we live to serve.