(I did this last night. It is a bit odd to me, for I am not used to writing in that style. Oh, and I have decided to go ahead and post what I have of my story. Not just yet, but soon, and in chapters. Yes, there are spelling errors.)
I percieve, yet do not see.
What is life?
A topic which is full of strife,
Many mysteries to unravel there be.
Surely we are not alone.
Space, so grand,
Must contain something more, not just this bland
Prison Life calls home.
"Eat, sleep, reproduce!" is what Nature says.
No purpose.
How do we create a surplus,
When so many die of hunger these days?
So, we turn to complex gadgets we create.
We destroy.
We turn love into a child's toy.
Now we murder, war, and hate.
Where did we go so wrong?
Life is dead.
People "living", full of dread
As Life's one meaning is now gone.
Love's the reason, now seen as crude,
That God has made me and you.
 Prometheus-of-the-Pies · Thu Jan 27, 2005 @ 11:48pm · 1 Comments |
