Something Needs to Die but Maybe It’s Not You

Staring at the ceiling in the darkness

Your mind is racing, repeating

Life is but a manic series of deflating failures when compared to the

Images that flash across the screen, what's the point of all this?

What does any of it mean?

Good question! I'd like the answer myself

But there's one thing that I know about you for sure

You were sent here with a gift

But the realm in which we exist

Seeks to dazzle, to confuse, with every cheap, tawdry ruse

Till we forget what it is

The gift is not glory, the gift is not heroics or recognition

It's not the hatred our demonic leaders keep demanding

It's something so impossibly mundane

Cannot be measured, it cannot be named

It's something so crucial to how things turn out

You were sent here with it to conquer chaos and doubt

But that Great Deceiver in your ear

Laughing it all off with a sneer, ha!

With a derisive, discordant blast

Terrified that one day you'll grasp

Creation don't make no trash

You may feel ill-equipped

And aimlessly adrift

But you were sent here with a gift

What will you do with it?