We Are Not Atlas To Be Holding The Earth
Is it possible
That the world may really
Be an amalgamation
Of shapes
And sizes?
None of which we can deem
Our own,
But all of which
We are judged as individuals
To hold?
We are not Atlas
To be holding the Earth,
But we each claim
Our stake on the lands
We inhabit,
Thinking we are the true
Owners of such a magnificent beauty.
Too bad our lives
Are not infinite,
Like the Earth we believe
We know.
There is only one thing we believe is
Finite
That we hold dearest to us:
Life.
There will be no life
If we create chaos
In our living world.
The
Earth
Is not a toy
To be spun
Like a
Top.
Just because it spins
Doesn't mean
It should stop.
Why is it that infinite
Being
Is not what we seek
As our legacy
Through our
Actions?
Death creates
Immortality,
But an immortal world
Requires
Life to continue.
Warm your hearts,
Not
The
Planet.
We pray,
But how much
Do we really do
With
Thoughts
Alone?
To think
And
To act
Are two different states of
Being.
One of which is finite,
And the other of which
I cannot fathom today,
Because I do not have
An infinite mind to hold these
Truths of
(In)Action.
Yet,
We possess
An infinite mind
That is yet to
Be
Filled.
At what point are we lost,
And are we truly trying to be found?
Being
An alien
Would be nice and fun
Until its too extra
Terrestrial,
And the climate
Has changed.
Phoning home would do us no
Good,
But being us
Is a far
Bigger
Enigma.
We could communicate
And see no answer,
Or we could excommunicate
And face the
Results.
It is blank space,
So let the canvas
Be
Explored,
And the painting shall
Be
Unveiled.
Bring me some cookies,
For the milky
Way
Awaits.
