By Chris King

Vanity of vanities!
All is vanity.
The advantage of man's
work is insanity.
A generation goes and a
generation comes,
But the earth remains
forever as one.
The sun also rises,
the sun also sets,
And then it hurries along
to the place it forgets.
And on its circular course,
the wind sings its song;
It blows north and then south and continues along.
All the rivers and streams
flow into the ocean;
Yet the sea is not full despite its tedious motion.
All things are weary,
and heavy, and tiring
That man is not able
to keep on inspiring.
What will be accomplished
has already been done.
So there is nothing new
under the sun.
There is nothing of which
people can say:
"This thing is new in everyway."
No one remembers the
earlier things;
No remembrance of what
tomorrow brings.
I have set my mind to
explore what is wise.
It is a grievous task that
all men despise.
Every work under the sun
is what my eye sees.
It is all vanity, and
chasing the breeze.
It cannot be straightened,
what has already been bent.
What money is lacking,
can never be spent.
I set forth to know wisdom
to its very end,
But I realized that this also is chasing the wind.
In much wisdom all joy turns mundane,
And from increasing knowledge comes increasing pain.

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