This is a great piece by Richard Dawkins that I put in the common metre:

We’re lucky, we who have to die,
we’re lucky we can mourn.
Most people never say goodbye
because they’re never born.

The neverborn who cannot stand
in my place or in yours
outnumber all the grains of sand
on all the oceans’ shores.

And some would have been poets more
profound than Keats has been,
or scientists who’d grasp some law
that Newton could not glean,

because the set of embryos
our DNA can make
by far exceeds the set of those
that ever come awake.

Although these odds must stupefy,
they blindly did allow
for ordinary you and I
to come to meet here now.

We lucky few, who’ve undergone
the lottery of birth
and who despite these odds have won
a chance to roam the Earth,

how dare we whine at our return
into that prior state
where all the neverborn sojourn
and never stir but wait?