Poetry: Why?

I'd like to note that I wrote Why? to take on the mystery of the purpose of life. To that extent, the poem only deals with the life of an individual; as many have mentioned over the years, there is a much richer legacy to be had from a person's life than merely death - children, for example. However, since the focus of this piece is the individual, then death is pretty much the end of the road, even if the echoes of having lived might resound throughout all of time.

Why?

Ours is not to reason why
Ours is but to do and die

For life is all that means anything
and death is all the fruit life can bring

Do as you will, and do as you must
Be true to the truth, for all will be dust

The end is beggining, though there is much time
And decieving oneself is the only true crime

Regret is all that can wound, hope is all that can heal
Love is all we can do, change is all we can feel

Now, what was the question?