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When it all boils down to it...

We truly are a momentary blip on a cosmic radar;
A momentary cluster of elements
Blessed with an incredibly limited-yet-inflated programming.

Now define "reality."

But we waste our time with fear and hate;
We concern ourselves with the mundane and the fleeting;
We invest in indulgences that leave us feeling more and more empty.

You are a single drop of water floating in a vast infinity of the cosmos.
The timeline will perceive you the very same way
You perceive that 1/10000th of a second that happened last week
(When you remembered a funny joke and giggled at nothing)

I see hysterics in the world;
Find the same thing when my escape goes digital.
I see people who think too highly of themselves...
(as though the end of their journey will represent a different death than our own)
I see people who think so lowly of themselves...
(that they're willing to throw away the splendor and mystery of tomorrow just to escape the hells of today)

When will we accept that we are human?
Wonderfully terrible, terribly wonderful;
Brilliantly stupid and idiotically ingenious;
Generous degenerates; selfish saints;
Complex-yet-simple humans!
Nothing more and nothing less!

Live not to be immortal,
But to show what greater gift limitations offers us:
Greater appreciation of what each moment represents.
Live for yourself,
So that, when you find yourself at he end of that road and looking back,
You can say "**** yea; I made that fleeting moment my own."

This is not said to scare or intimidate;
It's said to INSPIRE!
You ARE brief!
You ARE insignificant!
So stop concerning yourself;
Anything and anybody can waste that already precious time.
Rid yourselves of the poisons
That would turn the beautiful translucence of the water droplet representing you into a putrid blot of poison that the Universe would sooner forget.
Go now to the second stair;
I've hidden many wonders there.
No gold or jewels or gems or cash.
But, rest assured, there is your share.

You'll perhaps think me brash,
When you happen 'pon my stash.
But, rest assured, there is your share,
So at the stair, go be abashed.

You'll find tufts of matted hair,
Clotted flesh, both dark and fair.
Now all these deaths are mine to claim.
But, rest assured, there is your share.

I cannot say it was my aim,
To turn the stair into a frame.
But, rest assured, there is your share,
So I'll not be taking all the fame.

So go now to the second stair,
First comes joy, then despair.
Past that: regret, then who knows?
But, rest assured, there is your share.

And just like the old saying goes,
I will admit, my blood-lust grows.
But, rest assured, there is your share,
So go to the stair and claim your throes.

Now go on to the second stair,
Fret no more; you've no right to care.
'Twas your goading put them there.
So, rest assured, you'll find your share.

— The End —