Creation

innominatum

Time would wonder aimlessly as space mirrored their movement.

A ballad of existence which would seep throughout eternity

Amongst the grandeur and extravagance

Of this epic

Is where I stood for infinity

 

My ego Shrivelled with the coldness of space

I no longer had any repercussions to face

As I stood there yearning to remember what it mean to be born

To be felt as if I truly belonged

That my existence wasn't merely an act of impulsion

To be a being worthy of love and devotion

Yet this was something I was chosen

Not to be

For I was merely an insignificant celestial body

As if stars that were born a new and planets that held no life

An image of great potential yet bore no true purpose

For what is a tree without nutrients

A beast without its instincts

A toy without an owner

A man without free will

A king without a kingdom

And a god without power

 

There are beings that give and take

Yet I was given no true purpose

Yet I have taken no selfish desire

I'm not a being

I have no creator

I'm simply a false god

  • Author: Brusselsprouts (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: January 24th, 2024 00:09
  • Comment from author about the poem: this was written with idea on how i truly lacked control over my individual life. A being powerless over their own flesh and blood.
  • Category: Reflection
  • Views: 0
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