I do not have the courage—or maybe it is cowardice?—to die.
Maybe I will live into infinity.
Into oblivion.
For where is the value in living if life always follows this pattern?
If it never slows down and I cannot keep up?
Then again, where is the value in dying when things are always uncertain?
If new changes are guaranteed to develop?
Should I, then, find myself hopeful,
Or hopeless?
Or simply, nothing at all?
And nowhere?
YOU ARE READING
Disturbing the Universe
PoetryA collection of the things I am feeling, have experienced, or have realized, told through my own or other perspectives. Probably written in prose; it may or may not rhyme on occasion. By the way, the title is also a reference to one of my favorite e...
