Nothing and no one matters when you wake up alone in your dark, tight grave only to be put to the question on how you spent this life you've been granted; seemingly too short at that point. And vain.
I wouldn't know though, I'm still breathing, and I can bathe in the sun light, luckily.
But I keep wondering whether this is all devoid of meaning, when we know very well we will lay alone beneath layers of dust and regret. And solitude.
No family. No friends. No lovers. No children. No diplomas. No bonds. No pennies. No civil identity. No flowers or books for consolation. You won't be able to look at the night dome garnished with stars for your amusement.
Truth is,
The human life is so fragile. Yet we indulge like immortals.
Perhaps the very essence of life is believing in its lack of essence.
Peut être, l'essence de la vie es de realiser : qu'il est inutile.
ليست هناك تعليقات:
إرسال تعليق