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?
👁 6💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.