The Checkered Flag

V – Infinity

Oh, to the human tendency that always

Sends us flying 

Through the atmosphere. It never ends.

Ambition to subside the madness

The sadness, creeping in our veins;

With glory, triumph, competition.

An everlasting hunt for treasure 

Which we so arrogantly think

Would last.

 

The seemingly so distant past is right beneath us

Yet humans never learn.

The bloodbaths, the grotesque World Wars.

Our thought

Is that there in fact exists that somewhere

That’s unfathomably far and infinitely slow to come,

Where we will have enough.

 

But can a creature even comprehend?

The endless chaos that inevitably would ensue

If humans owned the powerful galaxies;

If we already now tear at each other,

With all the fallacies

And lies, and misconceptions 

About our own true rationality.

 

We’re simply abnormalities

Perhaps a glitch.

Given ability to reason, which

In every other possible reality 

Would complete every spec,

But not the Milky Way.

 

And although there is no limit 

To luminosity of human minds,

We are just dust in an infinitely big city

Face down, and not quite knowing

What’s above 

 

VI – Death

Are we afraid of death?

In all of the beliefs

A topological mistake,

Of limitless extrapolation.

All the internal darkness taken out

To not impose a strain

On our ever growing, omni working brains;

A strain for which no holy religion

Can account,

To which we all eventually go down.

 

 When one has drawn the ultimate last breath;

Where do we go? Descend, ascend,

Or maybe something in between? No one,

In fact, has ever really known

Since ones that go away are now forever gone.

However only human is unfortunate enough

To never give consideration 

To nature’s beautiful and devastating bluff

Of constant darkness, and no continuation. 

With no ability to think or cry

Or laugh at life’s past days.

An uncountably infinite dense daze 

Surrounded by nowhere and no one.

No time is wasted here, nor does it exist

On this thin line where we don’t see

Don’t hear, don’t feel, don’t know

Whether we’re there, or do the roots of evergreens

Just grow

Straight through our body.

 

Am I afraid of death? My life 

Set me an ultimatum.

I either live to promptly die

Or slowly kill myself to live.

The latter never was attractive 

If holding a belief to be productive

Live further than before. Explore

The endless plane.

However, the unpleasant situation

Of me in decades having no sensation

Is never as exciting 

As much as it’s divine.