Fleeting

I wrote more shitty poetry… took a picture and posted it to Instagram… where you should follow me, by the way @brotherarson . You might have found that picture and this blog post via twitter where you should also follow me @BrotherArson . Of course, if you got this far from Facebook… you can add me on snapchat: brotherarson.

 
 
 
With so much existence
in myriad form, and splendid,
How cursed are we as mortal men
to be so quickly ended?
The grandeur and the scale of it,
of all that is surrounding us
to be twice cursed by knowing it
for we are born with consciousness.
The greatest minds amongus
have striven to comprehend
How much further could they have gone
had their striving not had to end.
To live against our will and then
be privy to its wonder
until to soon against our will again
our bodies rent asunder.
Our will for naught our consciousness,
call it our soul if you prefer,
is to the rest made meaningless
even if it’s not interred.
For sans a vessel to convey
our will, we are but shadows,
cast here to quickly dance away
by stars, much like the candles.
 
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