Don Pendleton's poem: The Secret

The Meaning of life is within itself,
It needs no further scan,
The Secret of life is within the face
Of every boy and man,
The Beauty of life is within the gaze
Of every female eye,
The Wonder of life is within the grasp
Of every human sigh.
It's being in love, and it's giving love
In everything I do,
It's receiving love, and it's knowing love
In everything that's due,
And it's finding love, and uncov'ring love
Whenever I may pause,
It's treasuring love, and rewarding love,
With no thought for applause.
The Meaning of life is within the life
That may consecrate,
The Beauty of life is within the strife
That knows no blame or hate,
And the Love of life is the perfect plan
To perpetuate the race,
The perfected life is the chosen stand–
My point in time and space.
When my life is gone and the time is come
To say my fond farewell,
I can only hope that the final sum
Of all that I can tell,
Is that I have loved, and have been loved too,
Have left no stone unturned,
That I've left this world a much kinder place,
To await my next return.

–Don Pendleton,
A Search for Meaning From the Surface
of a Small Planet