We question why is it that life,
Has a beginning, middle and end,
Yet space seems continuous,
Could you please help me comprehend?

A small spec of dust we are,
On a sea of psychedelic abstract,
Our universe is quite mediocre,
Comparing it to its extract.

Everlasting... what,
What is it that we seem to admire,
A lack of carbon energy,
Requiring us to wear glass hoods?

Why oh why is it existent,
Why does it ever be,
I still am boggled by this infinite setting,
Can it possibly be part of me?