Written especially for my own Mr Douglas...
From your Irish peacock.

Some say that life is like a tree
With branchy fronds and apples on the top
So people come and bow their knee
And ganged up - start to chop
They take huge axes from their backs
And have no rest until their job is done
So they fall flat with faces pale as wax
As Death comes instantly for everyone
The petty splinters carpet this wasteland
Until the only seeds are going to sprout
From rotten bodies, dirt and sand
And a newborn tree will recklessly come out

The others claim that life is like a maze
Where you choose an unexplored path
Where crossings have no pity for prays
And there is no need to be fierce or rath
It's a place where you forget the way back
The instant you make choice at a fork
And you can wander there until the crack
Of doom will rid your blistered legs from wark
And even if you meet a company of friends
A minion, foe or several passer-bys
You all be scattered to opposite labyrinth's ends
And buried in abyss of never-ending whys

But I believe that life is like a wheel
That never stops or brakes or rusts
And even if John opens the Seventh Seal
It won't prevent the wheel from rolling, thus
Life's rhythm is generous and gracious
And always grants the second chance
It turns people from dull to vivacious
And doesn't let people live in one only stance
I can desperately push myself to a limit
But in the following life, that's what I know:
I can by chance lose my kindred spirit
But yonder is going to come my beau