Was it worth it all, after all?

How many schemes we had.
Such grand ideas!
We'd live off the fat
of the land.  Just put
your finger on an atlas
and start our car rolling.

Then suddenly sickness
the great intruder
snapped it away.
Took all our plans
tearing them to pieces.

Is it worth it all
after all…all the struggle
when it all turns to
dust all after all?

Is that the same God
who put you in a coma?
Is that the same God
who forms the flowers?