A Space-age Soliloquy


A Space-age Soliloquy

A Space-age Soliloquy

Contemplating one’s end
creates a curious blend
of ennui and trepidation

wondering if truth’s
will result in pleasure or pain

reverting to a plume of energy
that far-fetched mathematics
struggles to explain

in a world of probability
where dark matter lays claim
to greater unknowns

entangled, multidimensional,
faster than the speed of light
consuming all but darkness

I’ve no idea why I am here
spouting words like Hamlet
skull in hand, standing on the sterile sand
of a planet’s former seashore

dangling like a puppet on a string
determined to explore
this incomprehensible thing called life

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Angie's Diary