The world spins.
Lives are all struggling, clamouring to survive.
We invent technologies,
create literature,
music,
art...
What is this drive that makes us this way?
All I could think of is that someday
we will all die,
and nothing
will matter anymore.
We are
just
tiny
specks
of the entirety of this universe,
and no matter how much we say that humans,
the **** sapiens, are the most
supreme creature in this planet,
or in this universe -
it's not true.
I fear the day when everything
will be gone,
when there'll be no one
to recognise the petty little achievements of mine;
and the kind of achievements
we humans call miracles.
I fear life, and I fear death.
Even this very moment, I'm fearful
of the uncertainties,
of what might happen.
Everyone is.
But we still breathe,
doing things that'll all be
forgotten later on without giving up.
Here we are on the road.
We must be going somewhere.
