Time is funny,
It moves in a linear fashion,
But feels unorganized and dizzying,
A Ferris wheel of fate.
A spinning top incessantly spun.

It’s funny how perception changes,
How one moment you feel as if the world is your oyster,
And in the next that oyster is crushed beneath a cataclysmic stampede,
Or that oyster disappears, and you’re left with nothing,
Except the distant sound of ocean waves.

There’s something so funny about life,
About how it changes, shifts, balances and imbalances,
Based on a tiny detail,
And then everything is different.
A raindrop falls and hits the ground.
So does the woman from the bridge.
So does the soldier in Iraq.
So does the loved one slowly lowered,
Six feet under.

It’s funny how we pray and hope,
For something we may never achieve.
But that hope is what keeps our hearts beating,
Keeps our legs moving,
Keeps our brains working.

But what if our hearts are too weak to beat?
Fluttering but failing.

Our legs aren’t strong enough?
Bones, Muscle, Sinew, Useless.

Our brains aren’t smart enough?
A lump of distorted flesh.

What’s left for you then?
Just insignificant specks of dust in a world already forgotten.