Poetry by Aren Saraydarian ’26
There comes a time in lives of men in which it must be asked
Whether there is more to life than just a blank routine.
Are we just robots on repeat completing what is tasked?
Or is there hidden deep within a purpose yet unseen?
Each morning as you rise from slumber have you stopped to think,
Who gives me life and lets me rest until I rise again?
Between the lines in black and white there must be hidden ink
That tells the deeper meaning of the fleeting lives of men.
How old the world, how small a man, how great the universe,
For what will men recall my name when I have gone away?
What power could have made a world of creatures so diverse
And placed the stars that light the sky, the sun that rules the day?
What being made this universe so vast and so refined,
Yet still has time to wake me up and set me on my way?
What deity or demon could enlighten such a mind
That Aristotle, Galilei, or Einstein can’t outweigh?
Who but God Almighty could have set the earth in place,
And who but Him who made the world could set it on its pace?
To know the God of all the ages is to understand
That humankind is so much greater than a grain of sand.
The God of all creation has established me in love,
And though I fly astray, I shall return as Noah’s dove.
The valley may be dark and cold, yet I shall not despair.
The journey may be hard, yet my resolve shall never wear.
The day will come when I will breathe my final earthly breath,
Yet I shall never fear the empty promises of Death.
Although my body dies, the Lord shall raise me up to life,
And that’s the purpose of existence in this world of strife.
So never let the pains of life on earth defeat your heart,
Go out and live with joy before you from this world depart.
Go! Swim the oceans vast, ascend the hills and mountains high,
Sing songs of gladness toward the sky and hear the birds reply.
In all you do remember Him who gave it all to you,
Who gave you breath and raised the sun to bring each day anew.
Give thanks to Him who made the stars and trees with swaying leaves,
Who made the flowers of the earth, who light in darkness weaves.
Fear not the valleys dark and low, for they shall soon arise
To mountaintops so high and beautiful before your eyes.
The day shall never end if it is not to start again,
And so the sun shall never set if not to rise again.
