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04/24/09 - (3)
Innocence
He never realized that life had passed him by So long before he was born That no matter what he'd aspire to become, dream of succeeding at, It wouldn't make the slightest difference in the way he'd evolve, Since, indeed, in God's reckoning, he was already dead.
And thus, he spent his entire existence questioning, questing, Digging deeper into the deep's depths, Trying to find the sad, sadistic source of his disorienting origins, Hoping, in profound innocence, to discover why his corpse Had arrived on Earth, in the first place, to survive his birth.
But throughout his mortality, he remained bewildered. His visit was a perplexing odyssey, a perpetual befuddlement, A surreal conflation of unearthly flotsam, a waste of time, An exercise in a drowsy emperor's futility routine, A death without casket, pallbearers, grave, a cremation lacking ashes.
If only he'd known, been told, ahead of time's denial of responsibility, That his existence wouldn't be worth the bones he clothed in flesh, He might have asked God what he'd done to deserve his stillbirth, And chosen not to be, to bypass Earth entirely, Remain asleep, for eternity.
04/24/09 - (3)
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