Purpose
No matter how far we travel into the universe
No matter how many worlds we conquer
Or marvelous civilizations we meet
No matter how many strange creatures we study or dissect
No matter how far into the past we probe
No matter how many words we write, or read
There is always one step further; one more word to pen
One more iota of information to uncover.
Our great storehouses of knowledge do not help us survive
Though we hope it will; we must believe we will survive
Upon that one more grain of knowledge we all desire to know
That which is just knowing: will we be forever alive.
Not as a race, not through works of art
Not from words of wisdom
But the egoistic Self, the person, the lonesome mind
What matters if there is or is not a god?
The question is merely: Will I be forever.
That there is life beyond life
Is the dream, the hope, the blind misbegotten certainty
Are we not like a drop of water
That quenched a thirst for knowledge
Then evaporated, but still exists?
When no more doubt remains
Then shall humanity crumple and fade from the universe
No longer possessed
Of divine quest
No longer needing to survive in this land
When another so surely waits.
For now, the starships search the outer realms
The pen transcribes the mind
While seldom do we stop to reflect
That if the destination were ever in hand
We will have lost all purpose.
circa 1973
Copyright © Jessica Amanda Salmonson | Year Posted 2018
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