I wander the earth with half a mind, buried in the lonely consolation of the stars. I wander in search of connection, I drink, I eat, I make friends, I lose them, I consume knowledge, but at the end of every venture I am lonely. I am empty. There is no human mind I can fully comprehend, least of all my own, and none of my friends along the way can know it either.
Are we born to be lonely? What is it that we're empty of, what is it that we lost? What dwindling flame do we desperately live for? We spend our days clawing at whatever we can find, gathering entertainment, searching for a true purpose. Other creatures are content with how they exist. Why not us?
Humanity searches desperately for some consolation that they matter, that they will be remembered, that their mark will amount to more than nothing. Is existing not enough? To live, to breathe, to dance, to love, to celebrate and to mourn, is it not enough?
Maybe there truly was something taken from us, or maybe we're simply cursed to be wanderers. I marvel at those who have found a way to live without searching for more. There's a never ending abyss of things to know, so I expect to spend the rest of my eternity searching.
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Edited: 11/15/2024
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Ode to Life
PuisiIt's chaos to figure out how to live. To love yourself, to love others, to create, to destroy. It's just life. But maybe... just life isn't a bad thing? You can't have good without the ugly. This has all my poems combined, this'll be my only poetry...
