Creation

[ZenitYerkes]

Weird poem, perhaps as weird as the place we put our feet on.
---

Curious isn't it?
When you seek the sense
of all this
yet there's nothing else but questions
remaining
When you realize that this nonsense
exists
therefore it should mean
something
for someone perhaps?

Are we the whim of God?
The work of fanciful hazard?
Living dust?
Wandering spirits?

Are we actually here?
Are our feelings lying?

Is this just the cover
of something else?