What, exactly, is existence, tell me, my friend?
Where and when does it exactly begin and end?
Why do relations, like nectar with flowers, blend?
When in need, open-minded, our hands, do we lend?
What, exactly, is existence, tell me, my friend?
With death does it end or to death it does head bend?
What does happen to the time here we greatly spend?
What, exactly, is existence, tell me, my friend?
Where and when does it exactly begin and end?

(A Triolet Poem)