I’d like to think that oblivion isn’t inevitable and that
that we aren’t merely hurtling on a war path toward destruction
and the unknown,
I’d like to think that modern science will save us
and that tomorrow is infinite, that we will continue and thrive;
that existence is endless,
but the dark thoughts crowding the back of my head tell me
that skepticism is all I have left to hold onto, that tomorrow
I could swerve too far on the highway
unknowingly step in front of a bus –
and who will have known
who I was or what I believed?
Who will remember me?
I’ve determined that
maybe we are just flying through space alone and maybe chaos
rules the world
and maybe oblivion is inevitable and one day I’ll be gone
and it won’t matter,
so maybe the only existence I truly have is in
mornings waking up to scrape ice off the car,
maybe the only existence I’m given is
the warmth of sun seeping through my window,
sips of lukewarm coffee past 2am,
the laughter that lights up the faces of those I call friends,
and the fragility of knowing that
each moment is simultaneously powerful & insignificant.
Being human is trapped within the realm of
the impracticality and beauty of not knowing anything.
The nature of worlds is to fall into chaos,
yet out of chaos is born endless possibility,
and out of this possibility I discover
that we are living one endless moment
of shared anxiety about the inevitable,
but we are perfectly capable of living in the light of death,
our impermanence enrapturing our hearts.
How privileged are we, born to thrive and die,
thrown into this mixture of
chaos and well-crafted design
every moment meeting one another for the first (and last) time.