The Sun will someday set,
and bring eternal night,
The stars and moon and earth will all,
one day give up their fight.
The mighty seas and human trees,
Will crumble to earthly dust,
And all that's gold and in precious hold,
Will like iron rust.
Not riches, not fame,
not trophies will stay,
Our proud possessions one day,
Will all wither away.
So why live life? Why endure?
What plants from dead seeds 'rise?
What but ashes does burnt wood bring?
What morn is born without sunrise?
A kind word dropped in a hurt man's path,
A smile on a rainy day,
The haven of a hug, a heartfelt gift,
These things will always stay.