we are surrounded
by millions of stars.
tiny planets and
meteors.
the world will end,
in the far future, maybe.
but i won't live to see it,
or the silence that follows.
there are
billons of people in the world.
how do we know
we've met the right ones?
they say that
we came from ash and dust and some sort of big explosion,
but what created the energy
that pulled planets together?
//
little lowercase existential poem for you. also, little note, this book will be ending soon. i limit myself to 100 chapters a book, including the announcements that i put in (there's only around 3, it doesnt really make a difference) but!!! i'll be starting a new one afterwards, maybe even 2!!!
YOU ARE READING
the city
Poetryand no matter how much you water scorched grass and withering weeds, you will never make a garden re-grow -M.R c.2016
