A Story of a Child and Their Mother

Once upon a time, there was a little child and their mother But this child couldn't move their muscles since birth So the child couldn't do anything The mother watched over the child with all her heart, knowing they wouldn't live long And then the child's last day finally came The mother held the child's small hand, and for the first time, saw a faint smile just as the child was returning to heaven She felt that tiny hand squeeze back ever so slightly Oh, and the child's short life came to an end The mother surely felt it But in reality, the child couldn't smile or move their hand They couldn't do anything Hey, what did the child who couldn't do anything leave behind? By being unable to do anything. Did their life have no meaning? Or did it? What did the child who couldn't do anything leave behind? By being unable to do anything. Did their life have no meaning? Or did it? Whatever the truth, the mother surely felt the faint smile and the small hand squeezing back Even if it was just her imagination Hey, what did the child who couldn't do anything leave behind? By being unable to do anything. Did their life have no meaning? Or did it? Do we need meaning In just living our lives?