Pondering

Humanity knows nothing, and everything is a question, from the insignificant to the minutely less insignificant, like why did I have a bad day, and why does the universe exist. The most profound questions concocted by human minds are dust in the wind; irrelevant, not irreverent, and if there were a god of epic proportions, why would it acknowledge us? 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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