The Universal Equation (1)

Everything my thoughts touch turns to death.

Transience - that familiar catalyst of despair - is a constant, a mathematical 'k'.
Numbers have more significance in it - those abbreviated representations, intangible, almost purely conceptual - stand for entireties of knowledge and existence.
The sum of all efforts equates to a simple end, a zero.

O, it is logic, but a logic mired in paradox! But whose claim justifies a logical being?
Infinity is impossible, mathematically, and yet the environment of thought and being is boundless.

Death sums an end of efforts which amounts to nought, yet there is a stretch of everything in a black streak tinted with white golden worlds in a night sky, whose eyes reflect like children's, full of hope.

That hope is distant. We are still here. People are still wasting away, minds turning to shells, and so the newer are left to fit the bill of the thinking elite and study those hopeful eyes of the planetary gods.

It is in this, that being surrounds itself in the contrary. Such hope and such pain co-exist, and yet it seems still that
and this
this infinity and finiteness
this enormity and insignificant

that the universal balance
always equivocates itself.