They build tall towers around my neglected home,
Filling my weakened heart with jealousy and pain.
All they want is respect, the power of muscle and money.
The empty huge structures will host thousands,
For ages of birth and deaths, far away from the human world.
While in the human forms their minds are stone
They can not feel or think of any human weakling.
When free from the human case, they are specialists,
Mechanically repeating lives of existential happiness.
Who puts them on top, stamping on our human race?
Gods, Humans or Stones?

We are aware that we are,
But who is there to tell?
Will anyone know we were,
Once we leave this mortal shell?

Are we here just by chance?
From a Cosmic Dance?
No Hot Jupiter near our Sun,
Our system is The One
For Life.

We may well be unique,
The rest of space looks bleak.
A single winning bet
Consciousness did beget.

We are the living race,
Here by God’s good grace.

Paul Butters

Without Nothing there cannot be Something.
Non-Existence precedes Existence.
No Dark means no Light.
No cold no hot, no soft no hard, no death no life.
Up and down, left and right, East and West.
Calm then storm, stillness then action,
Heavy and light.
Chaos and Order.
The finite and the infinite.
All compare.
All are Relative.
Without Something there is no Nothing.
Without Light no Dark.
No Good no Bad.
No Knowledge no Mystery.
No Mystery no Knowledge.
All Relative.

Paul Butters