I look out over the stars, each with their planets.
Each one a bizarre and impossible place,
Plagued by life and decay and nonsense.
Each one so dense in history,
And absolutely vandalized by time.
Each one nightmarish in every way,
But yet somehow so beautiful.
And eventually, they're all gone.
I find myself asking the scariest question:
Why.
Why? Why bother?
People die, buildings burn while stars burn out,
They explode and take out everything in sight,
Along with the rich tapestries of knowledge they held.
Why huddle around the light?
Why sit around the fire,
Playing music into a void that doesn't care.
Their lives are like little tunes,
Ones they hum to themselves as they march on.
Eventually, their songs will end,
Nothing can last forever,
And there'll be nobody to mourn them,
When they're eventually gone.
Their lies, their deceits, their mistakes, and their regrets,
Whole lives whiz by while I can only watch.
None of it matters,
Their lives are blobs of meaningless nothing;
Yet from that, they find meaning.
Everything dies, including their universe itself,
Somehow that makes them feel that it's special.
But,
I can't help but think;
They wouldn't want it any other way.
YOU ARE READING
Every Trick In The Book
PoesíaThis anthology of mostly narrative poems mostly revolves around real people's stories. People's real stories of war and peace, of love and heartbreak, of alcoholism and loss; they have been immortalized in this anthology.
