Certainly just a pretty word for us, mortals.

We cannot grasp the irrelevance of time.

We can imagine, certainly, a century, a millennium,

Some unfortunate can look beyond.

However, eons, billions, when time itself is of no importance,

When civilizations crumbles, covered by dust,

The planet you inhabited rusts, like the morality…

What was it again? Why you cared?

What is it – to care? Should you?

Sane and insane. The borders blur…everything fades.

You’ve seen everything there is to see and done everything there is to do.

Turns out the Universe is not a mystery.

There’s no secrets. No knowledge. No drive.

RadiantĀ becomes bleak, and bleak becomes…tasteless.

It’s your constant. You wonder where’s the sense?

You had it, when your clock was ticking…

It is silent. Worse, it’s not needed.

How do you deal with it?

When death is no longer an excuse, how do you cope?

You don’t, because, for us, mortals

Forever is just a word and it ends when convenient.

Lizardin Bain

Occasional writer, vocational dreamer, helpless romantic, and hypocritical cynic. Find me here:

1 Comment

Von Smith · April 7, 2018 at 12:18 pm

Immortality would require new sort of thinking, feeling, morality or madness.

Our human minds would self-destruct without transmutation.

Often promises of eternal life raise smiles and reverie among the religious.

They fail to see the endless repetition of singing praises as prisonous condemnation.

No prospect of death bodes the everlasting of evil and irritating beings, pestering others for meaning.

How long could love last with imaginations weakly wrapped around a short-sighted brain bent on animal struggles?

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