This Is

The tide of time shifts onto me as I peek into infinity and realize that my soul itself is a simple figment of my ego. I perceive the universe with my primal and savage senses and try to make sense of something so vast that sometimes light itself is slowed and forgotten. There is a fear in me. A fear that consumes my very nature and makes me lust for something of value. To cry and lay with another into infinity as if it would change anything. My brain rarely recognizes this lie. This lie of biology that makes one feel as though there is a purpose to the purposeless. Even writing down one's thoughts is a fruitless venture. One will soon realize that when thoughts are put into the written word that the complexities of the soul cannot be put into a logical state. This is a tragedy but also a beauty. It gives voice to the human condition and allows one to peer into the blackness of their soul and realize that to live in the light that one must peer into the darkness in all of its horrors. But the horror of the darkness is not a fear of monsters or of any tangible fears. It is the horror of the comfort that darkness brings and the temptation to lie and rot with the universe contained within your mind