2 February 2012
Poem - A Construct to Make Sense of Existence
What does it mean to Be?
Why can we not Be without Meaning?
There is no Meaning; we construct our own.
We are together.
Our hearts beat, our blood coarses, we share the air,
Our atoms have traversed the universe for infinities.
We are alone.
My blood, my breath, my thoughts,
Entombed within the boundaries of biology.
I am everything.
My senses, my thoughts.
The world, my world, is everything I perceive.
Without this perception the world ceases to exist.
I am nothing.
Do they know me on the other side of the cosmos? Do they know me in China? Do they know me in the house next door?
I am nothing to almost everyone and everything.
So, I create my Meaning thus:
There is a massive, swirling void of blackness. Bigger than Everything.
From out of it we come, for a taste, a glimmer of human Existence.
And soon (in the scheme of things) we will reenter the swirling void,
And this shell, this thing that you see through your senses, your thoughts,
That I see through my senses and my thoughts,
Will be no more, leaving only the essence of who and what we truly are.
There is nothing more real than that.