I was staring into space wondering why we ask questions
And I thought:
Why do we create? Why do we destroy?
Why do I try to hold it together?
Why did I wake up this morning?
Is the morning of any value at all?
Why burn a cigarette when you can end the pain right away?
Why 3D? Why do we breathe?
Why are the oceans and the sky?
Why me? Why be?
Why uncertainty and anxiety?
Is anything of any value at all?
I think of death so certain in its coming,
But by its nature unknown
What comes after?
I don't wanna let go.
And life so miraculously around, so fragile
And I walk with my feet so lightly on the ground
And I wander about and I wonder about hate and love and gods.
And why is there a why at the end of every human narrative?
I don't want to know the truth behind humankind.
Why leave things unsaid?
But then again, why say anything?
There's no answers.
Nothing makes sense.
Why is the sun? Why are the stars?
Why was anything conceived at all?
And how am I supposed to be when all I feel is the space between the Earth and my feet.
Between the Earth and me.
And I think of the ending moments,
Only seconds before it all falls apart.
Was it worth it to attach myself?
Was it worth it at all to be a part of this unexplainable place?
Was it worth it?
And I think of the ending moments
When the last flames of the world are snuffed out
And all begins to die.
The world will let out its final whimper
And disappear without a trace.
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