Self Affirmation for the Uninformed

This is what I believe.

White Dwarf

We’re told

Our self is something beautiful,

filled with the pure creative fire that explodes in an

artist’s eyes,

across a canvas,

across the sky.

We’re told

Our self is meaningless.

Our self is garbage.

Our self is the perfect butterfly

humming its wing-song, ending lives

infinities away for all eternity.

We don’t know!

We can’t know!

We’re all trapped inside our own minds,

gibbering to ourselves while we pretend to understand

this reality revolving around us –

because the human way is to live by conjecture based on

illusion based on perception.

The capacity for our sanity must be enormous,

because if it’s otherwise –

if our bag of marbles has smashed open,

and we’ve self-imploded already and this

life is just the last moments of the neutron star,

fusion dead and cold, ready in its spinning speck for

the supernova -

then God help us.

Why do I bother trying to understand the universe?

When there are universes enough inside my voice,

unnumbered unfound doorways,

a few of which I take and lovingly empty

onto these pages, tracing the birth and dark

of incredible worlds with the

rolling ink of a pen.

Oh, to have the ability to give up this

life and jump into my own eternity,

to spin my own humble heaven –

I’d make myself a small house with a porch,

sit with notebooks and pens to

watch each day as it walks by,

to write

until every cell

winks out and I am filled with

billions and billions of supernovas.

Because each and every one of us has his own path to walk,

and the only meaning to find is in what we do in the

absolute moment of our existence.

And I know now that meaning can be found even in loneliness,

but never in blank reams –

So I plan to go with pen in hand,

scribbling my voice as the

bells begin to cry in that grey morning light –

worried only in those final racing moments

about finishing my last piece.