Some Spark Devine

Did some spark devine,
With the double helix entwine?
Was there some will,
That did a heartbeat instill?
Were our lives written,
And to a book submitten?
We are born. We grow,
But do we really know,
The purpose of creation?
And the sweet breath of sensation?
Many die every day,
What do we have to say?
What books will we write,
To light the cold, dark night?
What hand wrote The Book?
Was it the blood we partook,
That came from our creator's son,
That through our lives does run?
When will it end?
Will we be called a friend,
When we reach the grave?