At first we try to understand
We probe around the idea
But our biases get in the way
And smudge the lenses we look through
We weigh our morality
Trying to fit it within what we believe
To be right
Eventually we hate it
And then it becomes our enemy
Because we fear
How it will change us

Look now and see your own demise
When in the past you were full with pride
Gluttonous on the spoils of accomplishment
As you consumed without fail, without end

But as all things are
Like crests and troughs
The highs always reflect the lows
And your consumption became a weight
That now drags on your legs
Like a ball and chain

Those who fly too close to the sun
Who ride on the winds of favor
Singe their wings and fall back down to earth

I write this to welcome you back to reality
To remind you that all kingdoms fall
And that your prideful gluttony has now taken its toll
Chaining you to the ground
Beneath all those you once looked down upon

What if we never died?
What if there was no such thing as a brief life?
Nor a tragic end?

Would we feel meaning in the things we do?
Or value in the loves we cherish?
If nothing ended, would anything retain its value?

Could we really live for the end of days?
And find the light as radiant as always before?

If we never feared an end to it all?
Would our experiences diminish to nothing?
Perhaps the loom of death gives a gentle push
And the grim reaper waits idly by
Watching with fervor to see our many accomplishments
As we race against his pocket watch of destiny

The ruthless will devour you
Yet you will not even know it happened
Until the jaws begin to close
And the light begins to dim
The curtain draws and the clapping ends
By the time you realize
What that ruthless man has done

It will be utterly too late

For the pieces will have been moved
The pawns all sacrificed
And the dreaded realization will set in
That you were just a spectator to the game

And not even worth being called a piece
At all

When something truly awful happens
Why does home
Feel so strange to be in?

Why does tragedy
Make us strangers
To our own beds?

Perhaps you won’t be everything that you wanted to be
Perhaps you will fall more times than you want
Perhaps she won’t love you back
Or perhaps your best will never be good enough
Perhaps you won’t get hired by your dream job
Perhaps you’ll be mediocre at what you love to do
Perhaps you’ll sweat and cry for little results
Perhaps you think these things weigh you down
And sink you to the bottom of the sea
Or perhaps
They won’t, as you refuse to stay down.