What are humans?
Composed of inconceivably small particles
Made up of invisible strings
On the grand canvas of the universe

We arose from imperfections
Minute temperature fluctuations created our galaxy
As though it was destiny
Or so we think

Small things make up bigger things
That’s how everything begins
We are not different
We are not special

We are all made up of the same elements
Which came from the biggest stars in the universe
Which makes you just like me
In almost every way

No signs of life detected yet
But we’ve barely even scraped off the skin cells of the universe
There probably is life elsewhere
Probably lots of life

Like a microscopic flaw on a priceless painting
We think we are hard to come by (we’re not)
We ponder what makes us different
In the hopes of finding a meaning, a purpose

What if we have no purpose?
What then?
Should we just give up?
Do we wait to dissipate like everything else?

What makes an educated man different than a little boy?
Is he better because he has more intellect?
Is one arrangement of particles any better than the other?
Eventually we will all become dust anyway

But what will happen to that dust?
Will some of their particles get cast off into space? Sure
Will they fuel a star and eventually become part of a violent supernova? Maybe
But what about when it ends

When it all ends
When the universe cools to -273 degrees Celsius
When there is no more energy
When there are no people

When there is no life
No energy
No dust
No light

There is hope
What makes us special?
We don’t have to be

We live on earth
Small on the grand scale
It provides everything for us
For now, we live alone

We can be happy here
We can make ourselves seem important
We’ve already done it
You can be “important” here

Will we die?
Its ok
Just be happy

Why be happy?

Because what else is there to live for?