Existence

poem by: John Prophet
Written on Aug 20, 2018

Everything 
will die.
Then whatâ€™s
the
point?
Whatâ€™s
the point 
to
life?
Why
life?
Why live
at all?
I 
think
therefore 
I die.
Was I
here to
learn,
to experience?
Was I 
here by 
chance,
kismet?
Is my
fleeting 
puff of
existence 
even
measurable?
Infinity,
time and
space.
I, unmeasurable!
Existence infinite,
as old as
time itself!
I will die,
but,
my existence 
never will.

Tags: Deep,

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Frank Hornby . commented on Aug 20, 2018 at 12:26pm

There doesn't have to be a "point" to existence.....we don't have to achieve anything....while being alive on this meaningless piece of dust ....nobody asks to be born....as we age we have two choices....either kill yourself, or live....I choose... live,....until I inevitably die....then my dust is scattered onto the earth...to be recycled.....I will live on for eternity.....I suppose I will exist for ever, and ever....Amen....

Frank Hornby . commented on Aug 20, 2018 at 12:27pm

....another mind boggling poem JG.......haha...

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