My old lover is slowly inching to me.
Like a well dried up--seeks to be replenished
The mistress that I've known for a long time.
I speak of my nihilism.
Is it all enough? Am I still enough?
Is it all worth it? Am I worthy?
What is the meaning to me?
What to make of my life?
Choices to make here and there,
The burden to choose the right way.
To not falter here nor there,
To be mighty and holy always.
Will I eventually make it?
Can I ever escape its gravitational pull?
Yet even if I do, there seems more to climb.
One hill climbed leads to another much larger.
An endless cycle of progression,
A never ending to change.
To fight continuously with no end in sight
To persevere even when there is no more hope.
What to do in the face of injustice?
To see wars and destruction,
The human being fallen from grace.
Much pain faced with, hindering my race.
Perfectionism presents too,
I must be perfect always,
While it seems impossible and illogical,
For a fallible being will always remain so.
What can one man do?
Faced with much awareness of nature,
Can he simply live with no care? NO!
For what he is aware of becomes a thorn at his side.
Does he live a peaceful life?
NO, for he is always concerned about the-morrow.
He simply seems disturbed, pulled this way and that.
Yet he realizes one thing: The apparent absurdity of life.
He seeks to be this, and freedom he indeed has.
Yet the road to that seems scarring and gruesome.
And when he has attained it, there seems more to gain,
But much gain leads back to that treacherous road--and cycles again, infinitely.
Many defects plague mankind
Many sins committed by us too,
Yet daily we are called to fight, to conquer that evil nature.
Yet how can he conquer when it's there for life?
If not this, then it's that, and another.
Still, another seems to be thriving,
Being hopeful and virtuous always, but even he deals with his sin.
For everyone wars against their flesh--
Yet ironic and sad it may be--for what do we fight?
A battle won today but three lost the next day.
Why celebrate if this seems to be our fate?
Is it funny--saddened may it be?
It seems like perseverance directly ties to meaning.
But what is there to strive for when there is none,
When existence is bare and brutish--cold and seeks to destroy man
Persevere, what for? It's simply a trick to gain hope in a dark-endless war.
Is it hope, or is it ignorance?
For the human seeks to grasp to something magnificent,
To assuage his life--and justify his soul, a fight noble, and him a nobler one.
Yet my thoughts say what for do we fight?
Perhaps its ignorance that leads to this life,
To know the way and reject it for another,
Only to find the other to be misty--fleeting and vain,
Does that answer my question?
Yet there remains the state of nature,
That defect in human nature we all possess.
From whence it is said that all do evil,
Yet much good can come too.
Good and evil can't seem to coexist,
Much like an object can't be all green and all red at once,
One must take hold and the other relent, and vice versa to keep the balance.
Good and evil, the center of human actions.
When good is done, evil is gone,
When evil is done, good takes a nap,
Perhaps this absurdism is a clash of these natures.
Its either one reality or another, but they both extinguish each other.
Thus, perhaps why there seems no meaning,
For a good today is extinguished by evil,
The platform to stand on is gone, stripped away.
And so, a struggle of what is there to do.
For evil seems abundant, corrosive always.
In this case truly one cannot seem to have meaning
Yet there must be, I KNOW IT TRUE.
The only way is to extinguish the evil.
It's a treacherous road, one seldom taken,
For the meaningless of life shines brighter with each step.
To overcome today and fall the next, that is a pain to bear.
Evil never sleeps, we must not too.
That nature of ours is in need of subjugation,
Still in this life we will never prevail. DOOMED WE ARE TO FAIL.
Yet, we fight for a coming day, where life will be clear always.
I suppose that is perseverance, in the midst of the dark, look forward to hope.
I suppose that is what faith is,
In the midst of this infinite-extinguishing realities,
We stand and fight, looking to a transcendent hope.
One above our reality, untouchable by evil--itself not absurd.
To me it seems like it is Jesus Christ,
Though I am good today, evil I am tomorrow.
Yet I find myself on a road, towards salvation.
Therefore, in this absurd existence we stand assure.
That one can find meaning through it all,
Simply look beyond this reality,
And one will hope to find a garden filled with delicacies--a place to call home,
To be free from evil--from that nature which pricks us so.
However, it remains one thing,
So long as we live in this realm--it will always be absurd,
Even that transcendent hope can sometimes grow dim,
But no matter how dim and covered it is, it can never be extinguished.
Comments