An Existential Conclusion

I already feel it
bones starting to groan
years molding and unfolding
time is slipping past me
right through these
mortal hands
my trembling fingers
like grains of sand

And I feel a change
watching myself die
replay, repeat
memories on crooked slate
reminding me
of our one and only fate-

Death

Emotion kept in check
though I learned
my capacity-
weight limit for
empathy, mercy
investments in sentiments
often left in regret
is wearing thin

I cannot see anything
past the behemoth
I've learned to call
the Great Empty

The vast expanse
of a timeless void
that might/will destroy
all memory
of me (of us)

Oh how I envy
the religious..

If there is a God
well,

Fuck you