Is there joy in an ordinary life, unsung and plain?
An existence that does not dwell in questions arcane,
Life’s purpose, life’s meaning, no need to explore,
No thoughts of mortality or what lies beyond death’s door.
No questions about free will, or its implications vast,
Was today merely a shadow of the past?
A life that simply awakens, lives, under the sun's light,
And later, in the evening, drifts into an innocent night.
Sounds wonderful, serene, free of unfathomable mysteries,
But one wonders, would Nietzsche agree?
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