PoetryClaire de lune
  • TW : Existential dread

    Man: the conqueror of the land, the ruler of the sea.
    We tame nature like no entities can ever do.
    From the sky-touching peak to the deep naval debris,
    "Ours! Ours! Ours!" We declare the world as our due.
    No beings can control us; nothing ever will.

    Man: the best of the greats, the grandest of the graces.
    We elevate the Earth, glistening it into a sphere of pearl.
    From the most-eastern valleys to the farthest-west places,
    O, the Blue Marble, we rise as the tender of the world.
    No beings can control us; nothing ever will.

    Man: the avoider of truth, the deceiver of its own kind.
    We are better than none, nor exceptional even when combined.
    The greatest shall fall, and the grandest decays.
    The best shall pass, and the oldest live not always.
    In this existence, nothing lasts; nothing ever will.

    Awake! And take off thy blind of sugar-coated deception.
    Face the abominable truth and the inevitable annihilation,
    For in this gelid vacuity where multitudinous stars boil,
    Man is a meaningless entity, whose existence never escapes nihil.
    Thus behold! Throughout the vastness of the cosmic void,
    Man controls none, but death always will.


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