Blip of Nothingness

How elusive this hide and seek cosmos,
allowing humanity to remain but a tangible blip,
tenuously suspended on Time's infinite screen.

Existence, however, in all its atom-based reality,
lures man's eyes and ears toward layers of the unknown,
perhaps even the empty space,
whose nothingness density remains temptingly
the everything of epiphany's lair.

To be there with distant stars,
to delve into the inner essence of ourselves,
we exercise our prerogative
to contemplate another cosmic entitlement…

Our freedom as part of the blip.

Yet for some thinkers,
perceived freedom
with its implied randomness,
remains an unrealistic concept,
logic dictating correct thought and action
is conclusively deterministic,
save that which is inexpressible,
a conviction of value owned by the individual.

For dialectics can develop conclusions
arising from given sets of postulates or premises,
but resignedly, that is all it can do,
as it is incapable of generating premises itself,
rendering but resultant experience sterile,
capable only to expand, not to truly grow.

Still…

This spec-identity of ours on infinity's screen
continues to delude itself with a Pac-Man sense of conquest
warring, consuming, addicted to immediate gratification,
seemingly unaware of the insatiable flesh-governed mentality.

Humanity is a gift…

But, man’s dichotomy of creativity and self-destruction
seems destined to inevitably reduce our sentient existence
to an even smaller blip, eventuating cosmic dust
in a directionless dervish within reason's desperation,
conceivably paving the only way mankind’s existence
can be part of the distant stars—
small as such may be.