There is no free will, only gravity.
Boundless, soulless, relentless gravity.
The cold-hard compulsion of chemistry.
All things are foregone; pointless, closed and fixed.
All will end lightless, scattered through the void
Or in the bellies of the great dragons
Upon which all of the galaxies wheel.
All was planned in the musings of atoms,
All of us doomed before time’s inception;
All questions are answered simply: Because...
Sightless we scramble about in the dark,
Inertia’s shadow ever gaining ground.
Blotting the sun out, then the stars in turn,
And bleeding the heat from our sweat-soaked skins
Which shiver and quake for want of a flame.
How easy it is, insulated by
A few feet of earth once entropy comes,
Hunting like a shark through the depths of time.
Hear them bay, the dogs of the Wild Hunt,
Rabid with pleasure we may never know.
Share your poems with our readers.
I agree with her on that subject. This is probably one of the best I have read as far as fantasy driven goes.
I am the poet of the body and I am the poet of the Soul. The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are with me. The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate into a new tongue.
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