Tuesday, September 20, 2022

Some facts

That I'm born is a given, that I'll die is a fact,
That I'll be old and ill is true- in this life's short act. 
I make my moves fast, strive for health and wealth, 
As if I can cheat death's radar, flying in mode that is stealth.
 
That I need you is a given, that you'll remain distant is a fact, 
That I'll pine for you when you are gone, is my Faustian pact.
I hide my vulnerability, striving for power and fame, 
Need to learn how to love deeply- and not just in name. 

That I have a past is a given, that I've to create a future a fact,
That I'll fold under the weight of the choices, only seems apt. 
I deny responsibility, claiming I was never free, 
Distracting myself with philosophy- to be or not to be.

That I need a worldview is a given, that its arbitrary is a fact, 
That I'm able to enjoy an absurd life, is both an art and a tact!

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