Is this life?

Is that all there is to life
with - in your hand - a sword or knife,
cutting through the flesh of clay,
until the sun seals one more day?

Is life worth the work we do?
While monkeys chatter and cows moo,
seek to bring variety
still caring for eternity.

Is life yours or yours to keep?
It can be lost or made to sleep;
watch your step while doing drills
that you'll be there to make more kills.

Is it this or that is life -
not walking, talking, all in strife,
bringing out the best in you,
that others may be happy too?