Out of a memory
It hit me.
It's all a fantasy,
This thing we call life.
We've seen it all.
Beauty and ugliness.
Sexual ecstasy and unrequited love.
War and peace.
Honor and betrayal.
Slavery and freedom.
How much of it is real?
What makes any of it real?
What are we?
What am I?
A figments of a God's Imagination?
A God's Dream?
Too much order among the randomness?
A cosmic computer game, then?
Between Good and Evil?
Or two God-Like Moralities we can't comprehend?
Too much absurdity among all the random order not to consider it a dream?
Cosmic computer-like game,
Between two incomprehensible moralities?
I'll just roll with whatever this is.
Doing the best I can with others like me
On this Thing we call Earth,
And trust that when my energy is nil.
And I enter that state we call death,
That if I remain what seems a sentient life,
That I reside in a Better Place.
Just a Better Place.
War, Poverty, Hate, Murder, Rape, Misogyny,
Assault, Slavery, Politics, Religion, Incivility,
Xenophobia, Money, Greed, Hubris, and
A Better Place.
Forever and Evermore.
And Trust that Eternity itself,
Isn't a fucking nightmare.