Our Beliefs

poem by: John Prophet
Written on Nov 04, 2016

are as varied as they are inconsequential.
All struck on a speck of a place, in a speck of time.
Our very evolution built on infitesimly small terrain.
All that we think, all of the great contributions like so many others, lost in the endlessness of nothingness. 
All the great thinkers, all the time wasted on useless
pursuits, expounding on virtues of irrelevance.
Greatness not really great, or great on such an insignificant scale as to barely register. None of it worth anything.
Once the light goes out....

 

Tags: riddle,

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Nicho Mose commented:
It is written "vanity of vanities, all is vanity."

 

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