Questions Poem by Jojoba Mansell

Are we here, some fluke of chance?
Is there purpose for our being?
Our small emotions, love and romance,
will they last our lives fleeing?

Is there destiny, some chosen fate?
Some course chosen, a path selected?
Will we see it, if we watch and wait?
Is it definite or can it be rejected?

Or are we born, to live then die?
To be as the sand along the shore?
Should we worry? Feel at ease and sigh?
The last match in the box, once lit, so bright, but then no more?