Artwork

Supposedly, you are an accident,
arising randomly as all things to do,
and everything you feel your life has meant
is false, and only chemicals are true,
and anything we think a short life means
is just a tale to make ourselves feel better,
and life is just for spreading of our genes,
and truth, though it seemed sweet, is only bitter.
But in my depths, I sense this is absurd,
like thinking works of art could paint themselves,
and feel we haven’t randomly occurred:
we’re authored like the books upon our shelves.
I know this through my intellect and heart:
no accident, you are a work of art.

Untitled
Sophia Gray performing at the Waltham Steampunk Festival, 2016

Mario A. Pita

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Artwork

  1. “But in my depths I sense this is absurd,”
    I think everyone would find it such and have a good laugh at their past folly, should they all choose to venture that deep.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s