billions
of souls
seeking some
sort of purpose
a hint of
meaning to
salve this
condition of
consciousness

driven by
the same instinctual
urges as all life
yet cursed with
just enough understanding
to question why

careful contradictions
denying base desires
in a effort to seem
self awakened rather
than simply self aware
searching for answers
to explain away the pain
of inconsensual existence
striving for immortality
despite moral objections

crafting divinity to
explain inconsequentiality
forging deities to deny
errant lightning strikes
on primordial pools
trying to corral chaos
in a cage of contradictions
covering our fragility
in a facade of finery
as if public opinion
affects our impending doom

a deer has no need for
dime store philosophies
nor any desire to leave any
lasting impression on
a world it doesn’t fathom
it eats sleeps shits fucks
the same as anything else
driven by instinctual anxieties
from first breath to last