Its all a desert,

in the end,

islands floating on the sea.

Until the water

disappears,

only a horizon will there be.

 

It won’t change at all

no matter what,

the human race didn’t fuck it up.

Though we helped,

all was lost

for all things become corrupt.

 

Living is anomalous.

Life is a tree

that grew out of mystery.

Though the branches

are very many

all sprouted from a singularity.

 

And even if life

exists at all

in the desert blackness of space

apart from earth.

It too must be

a very peculiar case.

 

The procession,

the lineage

is a daunting thing to make,

from some small

tiny microbe

into a complex thinking ape.

 

It took millions

of years,

too many for us to even think

in relative terms,

it’s crazy,

but to the universe, just a blink.

 

Time is the Trickster.

Both big and small

doesn’t matter on the time-line.

For in front is death,

behind is void,

and in between is the punchline.

 

Perhaps I'm wrong.

Science says things

like the very law of entropy

will win in the end,

no matter how we live,

and the heat death supremacy.

 

But it could be true

that all that we do

doesn’t just crumble away.

For all that I know

a spirit does flow

upward from the decay.

 

I have my doubts

in these things

but my doubts are numerous,

even in science.

I doubt everything,

but especially the numinous.

 

That being said,

I don’t know

anything with absolute certainty.

Which is kind of like

saying that

anything is a possibility.

 

What one believes

and what is real

is a cognitive conflict

that never shapes up

or matches right,

it is always imperfect.

 

Therefore, I trust

not in this or that.

I trust only within myself.

And I believe at least

that I am sentient,

that is all that I can ever tell

 

Everything else

is only shadow

outside upon the wall.

As I sit alone,

staring blankly,

trying to make sense of it all.