An ode rewrite restricted to English sonnet parameters

[FrankGSterleJr]

To the Infinite, the Finite & Our Foolishness

Life’s irony’s the view we benefit
from physical, material delight
as though naught counts but what’s felt or in sight
while ignored our souls are desperate
for what should count the most—the infinite;
yet we’ll go on till it’s too late, despite
much instinct in us of what’s truly right,
that life’s content is so inadequate.
Regardless, to that same life we cling tight
since but the physical seems definite
thus for material matters we fight—
like the blind-mind addict’s barbiturate—
while Great Hereafter’s placed post-the-finite,
so skewed are values foremost we’ll permit.

Frank Sterle Jr