Pangloss

In this, the best of all possible worlds
I’m born to die
The bay ebbs and flows
Only for us to drown in
Shall we cultivate
Our garden now?
Why must we hold fast
Whilst it eats our hearts away?
And if we never find
The things we want
At least we’ll meet with something
New
Let us caress
The serpent that devours
Time is of the essence
And there’s still much to do