And I am sorry about that. Some thoughts I need to shuffle out before I sleep.
What does it mean to exist?
Is it easily explained away, as a similarity
a necessity to breathe?
At times I think perhaps, just maybe
we are not satisfied with the knowledge of our existence.
We need a little more.
To feel that we exist,
perhaps to hate,
to yell, to infuriate
just to know that life is still ticking.
To exist is to find, to see, to believe
We are three and will always be something different
Why use our existence to pick at truth.
to fight what gave us breath?
Existence in itself screams for our attention
Do we use the gift of existence
to help ourselves? is this right?
How does anything make sense, if it is as you say?
if we are all gods, if we are all right, then there is no justice.
There is no purpose.
and existence is wasted, drowned, suffocated in self pity.
But perhaps there is right and wrong? perhaps a God exists?
Will you use your breath to shout and insult, or to embrace ?
a face you cannot see, i do not understand why this confuses thee
perhaps I’m wrong, just maybe. But does not life itself crumble?
Does not history fizzle, and our hearts break at the thought
that there is only hell and nothing more?
A scoff, a glare, a laugh at me
trying so hard to kill what’s free
A Father gave his Son you see
To give us breath that we may breathe