Look up there, really look.
The line of your sight and the path that it took.
Try to understand the truth of life’s vocation.
While you grasp the depths of its bitter isolation.
There is nothing up there, nothing watching.
Just a barren universe, casually mocking.
Existence is a catalog of aligned integration.
Just a system of knowledge and past information.
Your ability to experience in all of its brilliance.
Is merely the outcome of your required existence.
The world we inhabit, manipulate yet trust.
Is a game of mathematics that acts as it must.
For nothing can happen without the passing of time.
This is a terrifying, existential crime.