Existence

The world is a continuum

Simply revolving on its own accord,

Despite the path its occupants take.

The day we realize

That we are nothing more

Than a collection of atoms and cells

A mass taking up air and space

The day we realize this

Is the day we all stop moving

The day we all collapse

Under the realization

That we mean nothing

We are insignificant.

We carry on in our selfish ways

But that day will never come

Because we will never cease to indulge

In our own selfish fantasies

That we mean something

That we are of significance

But this is all, but a lie