Noah read a book, once. He did not enjoy it, in fact he realized he could come up with much more enjoyable stories in his head.
There comes a day that we all dread,
when our life fades and this body we shed.
Perhaps to another realm high in the clouds,
Or deep into the depths of hell.
Who is to say where we will go -
When the church tower rings it solemn bell?
And who's to say how it will end?
Alone and cold? Surrounded by friends?
Will we cry, for want of time?
Or will we simply just resign-
To the fate we all must meet,
The "cruel" fate we cannot beat.
Such thoughts as these bring us no joy,
And so we distract ourselves with toys.
We eat and play and entertain-
All feeble ploys to stem the pain.
Some pursue idyllic fantasy,
Their noble cause, destroyed by reality.
Others still will turn to sin,
To alleviate the hell we're in
There's really nothing more to say,
Just try and make it through the day.
I felt like writing some poetry, haven't done it in years (nor have I lost my depressive tone, haha).
I've pondered my own mortality since I can remember, and so far I've still not learned anything truly insightful beyond existential dread and some of Nietzsche's philosophical ideas.
From what I gather, dwelling on these things are a rather large waste of time. Be a good person and do the best you can, that's all anyone can really ask of you. What are your thoughts?
© 2019 Noah G Wood
Jessy Aragon on December 30, 2019: