Poetry – My Existence is Questionable.

My Existence is Questionable.

My existence is questionable.

                In a few billion years

                                No evidence will exist;

No bones,

                No fossils,

                                Not even an impression.

Nothing of my life

                Will be remembered

No word

                Of any poem

                                Remain.

Not even a whisper in the wind.

Every atom

                That ever sang in my blood

                                Sent a shock through my brain

Or supported me against the force of gravity

Will be free.

Some of me

                Will find its way to stars

                                To explode through galaxies.

Some of my atoms

                Might even incorporate themselves

                                Into another sentient being.

There may be other words.

Opher – 5.3.2022

How pointless everything really is. How inconsequential.

All our little lives, trivial pursuits, matters of life and death, war and power struggles, wealth and greed. Even the destruction of the entire planet is trivial compared to the immensity of the universe. Our whole galaxy is but a pinprick, a tiny speck.

All our gods, palaces, castles and cathedrals are worthless and insignificant.

Our thoughts, dreams, hopes and aspirations, our fears, worries, anxieties and traumas, our pleasures and pains – all melt into oblivion when death claims our memories.

Yet atoms are perpetual. That is marvellous!

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