We are all romantic poets

Conscious of death, embracing it as part of the sublime. 19th century sensibilities in the 21st. We all go the way of Byron and Keats, gone too soon in a flash of light. But while we're here, we can make life meaningful and put our triumph into words. We live with purpose because we know the inevitability of death more keenly than others, are not stuck living our life in some idea of meaningless immortality. We are creatures of the sunshine and the day, though we sometimes hide the night in our souls. Our purpose on the planet may not be clear yet, but it soon becomes evident, and we strive for that goal more than anyone else.