Why is Life given to us?

An old fool went to a scholar
And posed a question thus,
"O Revered Scholar, tell me,
Why is life given to us?"

The scholar looked up from his work,
Saw the fool and frowned,
"Old man, after years of thought,
your answer, indeed, I've found.

"Do you see the tree yonder?
Why do those flowers grow?
Old man, we must always question,
Hence, Man must live to know."

"Forgive me, O wise one, I know not,
I'm a fool, slow on the uptake,
According to you, all fools are dead,
But that's wrong, there's a mistake."

"I have not time to argue
With a fool like you.
My work beckons, so go away,
I say, be off with you."

The old man then went to a sentinel
And posed his question thus,
"O Respected Sir, tell me,
Why is life given to us?"

The officer turned around,
Saw the fool and frowned,
"Old man, you provoke thought,
Indeed, the question is profound.

"Man is given life to live
By the laws and customs of the land,
One will lead, others follow,
That's what makes life grand."

"Forgive me, O righteous one,
I grasped not what you said,
A robber broke into my house,
And you say, he's dead."

"Hah! If you want to complain,
Go to the police-yard.
Stop pestering me fool,
Can't you see, I'm on guard."

The old man ran and met a farmer
And posed the question thus,
"O Son of the Soil, say,
Why is life given to us?"

The farmer worked and did not hear,
Then he shrugged and said,
"I work with these two hands,
Not with my silly head.

"I think life is given
To live on Earth's providence,
And when we die, we join the earth,
It seems to make sense."

"But what of the Merchant, he toiled not,
And now he lies in a coffin.
Did he not live?Was he not human,
And are not all men your kin?"

"Oh!Time is lost, the cornfield calls,
And I must plough an acre and half.
Good man, give me a hand, or,
Rogue, cease your prattle, be off."

The old man went and met
The young merchant in his palace.
"O Rich Man, I ask you,
Why is life given to us?"

"Old man, the nitwits might say
That we must live fearing God,
But they don't know what they're saying,
Those stupid empty-headed clods.

"I've never been to church, nor have
I ever performed a ritual,
I gamble, and regarding women,
My interests are purely sensual.

"Yet look at me now, living
In glory and in prime health.
My father died and see,
I'm swimming in his wealth.

"Old man, life is given to live
Lavishly, with much expenditure,
And if, by mistake, we die,
So it will be There, as it is Here."

The old man did not understand a word,
But nodded his head and smiled.
On the road, he slipped and fell
And cracked his skull and died.

The scholar came by that road,
Where the old man's corpse lay.
"There is evil here, I must flee"
So, the scholar sped away.

The sentinel came soon after
And found the fool prostate.
Immediately, he returned to town
To inform the magistrate.

The farmer came and saw the man
And his face was at once grave.
He crossed himself, and set about
Digging the old man's grave.

The merchant came just then,
"Hey you! Leave that body alone"
Said he, "Go away, O Farmer,
The Dead shall tend for their own."

He waited till the farmer was gone
Then turned around and knelt
And robbed the corpse 'pon the road,
And chuckling happily went.

Alas! The old fool should've known
That there's no security in death,
That each man's life is his own,
And man's words are mere breaths,

And that each must live to the fullest,
And must, most importantly, love.
Leave the why's and how's of life
To the Almighty up above.