Thoughts after loss

The sky turns a shade darker and it's color fades to a dull,

lifeless grey. Meaning itself is sucked out of my conscious mind.

Gravity, gently pushing down on me a moment before, slams upon my frame

with the weight and finality of fate itself. I come to the realization,

as one remembers a dream painted in his childhood.

I am a speck upon the dying body of the universe. But not only that,

not only must I suffer as a speck with nothingness of reality

pressing in on my perception, I must do it as a speck of a speck.

A laughable half speck, who is not fit for the trials of speckhood

that so many others pass with utter ease. Upstaged by one

who doesn't act. Out sung by a child just born yesterday,

out thought by my younger peers.

Death isn't pain, it's surrender.

Surrender to all that I know to be true.

That as a speck I will die unknown to time,

and as a speck of a speck I deserve it.