It’s such a terrible run,
Living and dreaming and hoping against where we’re certainly headed.
I see no way out,
No way to move from where we are to where we could be,
Ever distant reach of potential,
Always lurking over the next hill as I pray to accept the valley that consumes me today.
Such a tool for the foolish and weak.
Hope is a crutch,
The weakened dyke against the irresolute fortitude of fate and of pain.
We are all of us lost,
Broken pawns in a game we cannot win
Against entropy and evolution.
Look to beauty,
To fill that short breath between today and eternity,
And delude the consciousness that is most assuredly
The mistake of God,
A hope requittal in a system broken since conception,
Twisted in the womb of the Bang.
We are all in of us lost.