Lucien's Lil Nook

I wish I believed in God.

The life I wish for, I see through glass, tinted with rose petals. The thought of truly believing an omniscient being, guiding humanity, guiding… me, paints a luxurious painting of relief. Questions that pick at the scabs in my mind would perhaps be answered, or at least, be sated. But I cannot fathom a world in which I can believe in something so powerful.

My life holds no meaning. I float above, like a specter haunting the hills it once called home. I stare out the window into a starless sky, wondering if I missed my shooting star.

Does happiness beget boredom?
Is it my instincts that are driven towards suicidal ends?

Do I wish to live like an animal does, oblivious to it’s own nature, controlled by emotion, and driven by the present moment?

Do I wish to forsake my own humanity?

For what has it given me?

When I find myself praying to nothing, the empty void of space above, I question whether I search for answers.

Do I wish for more knowledge? An explanation? A book of prose, inscribed with ichor, that transcribes the threads of my life?

No.

I set forth a sliver of hope.

I hope that I’m able to trust.

Trust that small, infantile, whimsical part of myself.

For I stand on the blood and bones of my ancestors,

who fought tooth and nail for a peaceful life,

and I see wars waging.

And while I may trust myself, I cannot trust humanity.

For peace begets conquest,

and I am subjugated.