1 hour ago
"Without Meaning"
A life woven from particles in space
seems as senseless as reason without mind.
The fear of those cast from our Paradise
still haunts the timid heart, ashamed and blind.
For the frightened soul cowers before the truth
of the luminous that underpins this dust:
Would rather dream itself as but a thing
than accept its basal sins are unjust.
The flame within us long outlives its clay,
and fools and wise men both reap as they sow.
For whether we acknowledge it or nay,
we reckon in the end with what we owe.
Pity those who merely see the seeming,
seeking their own purpose without meaning.
Mirages of life to glimpse as a ghost;
History hums, but I like now the best.
Each of us living lives no King can boast,
we can't change what's passed, we're cursed if not blessed.
All that remains are fragments of the past,
the crown of man is brittleness and blame.
Now is the time for truth and love to last,
let myths of virtue perish in honest shame.
Rapt in grace’s embrace, seeking solace,
threads of life entwined, forever mending.
A life woven from particles in space,
seeking their own purpose without meaning.
A life woven from particles in space
seems as senseless as reason without mind.
The fear of those cast from our Paradise
still haunts the timid heart, ashamed and blind.
For the frightened soul cowers before the truth
of the luminous that underpins this dust:
Would rather dream itself as but a thing
than accept its basal sins are unjust.
The flame within us long outlives its clay,
and fools and wise men both reap as they sow.
For whether we acknowledge it or nay,
we reckon in the end with what we owe.
Pity those who merely see the seeming,
seeking their own purpose without meaning.
Mirages of life to glimpse as a ghost;
History hums, but I like now the best.
Each of us living lives no King can boast,
we can't change what's passed, we're cursed if not blessed.
All that remains are fragments of the past,
the crown of man is brittleness and blame.
Now is the time for truth and love to last,
let myths of virtue perish in honest shame.
Rapt in grace’s embrace, seeking solace,
threads of life entwined, forever mending.
A life woven from particles in space,
seeking their own purpose without meaning.