Post by artolmaeus on Apr 19, 2024 19:39:43 GMT -6
how then will it be after I die
should I be fashioned into something
better than I hoped to be
one bacteria in a petri dish
safe surrounding, food, divides into two
and this is the design, as it is
and so on and so forth
until a large population of bacteria
die in their waste and poison
how long or different is it with roaches
vultures or tarantula's
and so then, who remembers the roach
the one who found the rotted house wood
full and rich in decay and far from predators
and brings then, to it other roaches
to flourish on the bounty that is endless
for one roach, and then, maybe this roach
knew how to preserve it's place and it's bounty
all good things, no matter how saved
come to an end
then, a pile of dried carapices and what
where is the monument to the greatest roach that ever lived
who tells his story,
and man, knowing how limited the roach and how superior man is to the roach
feels no remorse for it's loss, no matter how much it did
even less the bacteria that bloomed in the petri dish
all that was done, dust in the landfill
yet all the world truly melds in a landfill or sewer
and there are no monuments there
even now, at the highest reach we have ever done
and done with extensions of our species into machinery partly designed from our DNA
from carbon, silicon and can endure
these things, coming into our own,
will they tell the story of the man kind that made them
will the best of us still fall into a very limited Dunning and Kruger category
far less than even the humblest of egos could surrender
where ends the hand of God when man has to still wipe his ass
oh what kind of porn does God take moments on
would we even make sense of it
is there no end to better and greater
as there is lesser and lesser
the line seems to go in both directions
if we are focused on lines
whatever we are distracted on
distraction is the only constant
one man's distraction is another's purpose
mission, reason and rebellion
and for what, how then will it be when I die
if I never knew how it was when I lived
and what could I tell anyone
that it would mean anything
except that there is always something
and truly, only nothing is impossible
as even the moment you have a nothing
it ceases to be that
as even a void, well, seems to be the largest thing in the universe
and as far as I know, the universe contains everything, except nothing
then, no matter how long we have gazed into the universe, the sky, into what makes on atom, one atom
there does exist a wild potential
that we truly know nothing
and maybe we were not designed to
what then, is this thing we are
as we somehow question to a point
where it is pointless and we rebel pointlessness,
what if John Locke was right
what if Darwin was wrong
what if we will never answer this
and if shown, we cannot accept it
because a truth or a lie
not quite nihilism, has words
and words, it seems, once started
don't want to end, but they carry us
somewhere, most of the times, where we only have words
that we only have to say
this is where I don't want to be
and yet, we never have enough to say
where we have been
it where we are
but, alas, thinking doth not make it so
as it goes with roaches, if you see one
you know there are many more
but the one you see, well that one
is the dumbest dumbass roach of them all
or likes to play some form of suicidal
roach Russian roulette
maybe it can be after I die, I will not reincarnate as a roach
oh no, maybe I can be a very sentient tardigrade and be flung far into the void of space, tardigrades are hard to kill
and nothing like sea monkeys
and how far could I go
as the greatest tardigrade in the universe
maybe of all dimensions
except, well, maybe,nothing
should I be fashioned into something
better than I hoped to be
one bacteria in a petri dish
safe surrounding, food, divides into two
and this is the design, as it is
and so on and so forth
until a large population of bacteria
die in their waste and poison
how long or different is it with roaches
vultures or tarantula's
and so then, who remembers the roach
the one who found the rotted house wood
full and rich in decay and far from predators
and brings then, to it other roaches
to flourish on the bounty that is endless
for one roach, and then, maybe this roach
knew how to preserve it's place and it's bounty
all good things, no matter how saved
come to an end
then, a pile of dried carapices and what
where is the monument to the greatest roach that ever lived
who tells his story,
and man, knowing how limited the roach and how superior man is to the roach
feels no remorse for it's loss, no matter how much it did
even less the bacteria that bloomed in the petri dish
all that was done, dust in the landfill
yet all the world truly melds in a landfill or sewer
and there are no monuments there
even now, at the highest reach we have ever done
and done with extensions of our species into machinery partly designed from our DNA
from carbon, silicon and can endure
these things, coming into our own,
will they tell the story of the man kind that made them
will the best of us still fall into a very limited Dunning and Kruger category
far less than even the humblest of egos could surrender
where ends the hand of God when man has to still wipe his ass
oh what kind of porn does God take moments on
would we even make sense of it
is there no end to better and greater
as there is lesser and lesser
the line seems to go in both directions
if we are focused on lines
whatever we are distracted on
distraction is the only constant
one man's distraction is another's purpose
mission, reason and rebellion
and for what, how then will it be when I die
if I never knew how it was when I lived
and what could I tell anyone
that it would mean anything
except that there is always something
and truly, only nothing is impossible
as even the moment you have a nothing
it ceases to be that
as even a void, well, seems to be the largest thing in the universe
and as far as I know, the universe contains everything, except nothing
then, no matter how long we have gazed into the universe, the sky, into what makes on atom, one atom
there does exist a wild potential
that we truly know nothing
and maybe we were not designed to
what then, is this thing we are
as we somehow question to a point
where it is pointless and we rebel pointlessness,
what if John Locke was right
what if Darwin was wrong
what if we will never answer this
and if shown, we cannot accept it
because a truth or a lie
not quite nihilism, has words
and words, it seems, once started
don't want to end, but they carry us
somewhere, most of the times, where we only have words
that we only have to say
this is where I don't want to be
and yet, we never have enough to say
where we have been
it where we are
but, alas, thinking doth not make it so
as it goes with roaches, if you see one
you know there are many more
but the one you see, well that one
is the dumbest dumbass roach of them all
or likes to play some form of suicidal
roach Russian roulette
maybe it can be after I die, I will not reincarnate as a roach
oh no, maybe I can be a very sentient tardigrade and be flung far into the void of space, tardigrades are hard to kill
and nothing like sea monkeys
and how far could I go
as the greatest tardigrade in the universe
maybe of all dimensions
except, well, maybe,nothing
