What if void is the way of the world
To feel nothing is in fact the way to be
And bodily death is what our souls truly await?
What if equilibrium is where eternity resides
But we chase chaos in the name of growth
What if the true purpose is to be forgotten
But to be remembered is why we think we live
And each time we’re remembered, our body flinches in the grave?
What if an empty mind is a rare privilege
Complete lack of ambition the path to salvation
Pitch black the ultimate truth of the universe
And all matter is in fact just clutter?
What if the rat race of growth a facade
Hiding man’s inability to harness nothingness
Softening the fear of absolute detachment
& compensating the impossible path to seamless oblivion?
What is stillness after all that persists endlessly
With no logic that explains its being
With no man venturing into its territory
With power enough to yet draw everything in with no exit?
Isn’t void the only thing that doesn’t fade
Is it where we’re truly headed
Is it after all the eternal truth
And all else a fearful escape from the incomprehensible end?