Existence
Everything
will die.
Then what’s
the
point?
What’s
the point
to
life?
Why
life?
Why live
at all?
I
think
therefore
I die.
Was I
here to
learn,
to experience?
Was I
here by
chance,
kismet?
Is my
fleeting
puff of
existence
even
measurable?
Infinity,
time and
space.
I, unmeasurable!
Existence infinite,
as old as
time itself!
I will die,
but,
my existence
never will.
Copyright © Jg Collins | Year Posted 2018
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment