Poetry – Terminal

Terminal

 

I have a terminal disease

Called life.

I do not know how many seconds I have left.

At present that is unpredictable.

I used to think I had millions –

Plenty to squander.

Now I know it could be dozens

But I am hoping for hundreds of thousands.

 

One day,

For me,

The universe will cease to exist.

 

I mean to make the most

Of my remaining seconds.

Every day the seconds run down

Like grains of sand

In a huge egg-timer.

There are many more grains in the bottom than the top.

That makes every single one

A little sweeter.

 

Opher – 8.5.2020

8 thoughts on “Poetry – Terminal

  1. Nicely put Opher!

    I wonder what thoughts you have about life after death? Personally I am not comforted by the belief that after we die we live in an eternal state of nothingness. I much prefer to embrace the idea that I’ll return to inhabit another biological vessel: that whilst ‘me’ is me, the ‘I’ that is eternal Spirit within me will emerge as new life somewhere in the galaxy. If Earth wasn’t where I returned to, then so be it: a change would as good as a rest!

    Enjoy the hottest day of the year!

    DN

    1. I used to believe there was an intrinsic me, a discrete personality that was apart from my body and organic form, from my brain, and was eternal.
      I don’t think that now.
      Work carried out on brain-damaged people seem to indicate that we are a result of our neural net. Our personality is formed from the experiences we have and our biology. It’s diffuse and ephemeral. Damaged people often change personality dramatically.
      It is an area of great fascination to me. I return to it again and again.
      Our consciousness is a mystery.
      I like mysteries.
      Life after death? I think is likely a fanciful wish. But I really think we are a product of evolution – nothing more – and that is amazing, incredible and wonderful. It’s a miracle.

      1. I don’t see myself as anything but seamless to everything in existence, after-all, I am a product of that unfathomable process that is the Universe becoming, hence, I am that mysterious force giving rise to all things.

        Agreed, ‘me’ is a product of experiences, and my perception of them conditioned and fashioned as they may be by my neural net and psychology. My personality may change as a result of changing experiences, or brain-damage, but I remain forever.

        If upon your death atoms that comprise the current you became the building blocks for new life, would that constitute a form of reincarnation? If that process were repeated over-and-over, would you continue to exist? On the fundamental level, does consciousness prevail? Is there an atomic memory of you resonate, or resident, within your smallest part?

        DN

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