Finite Are Our Destinies.

Finite are our destinies,
From the commonest man,
To the greatest of kings,
With strange aeons
Time consumes us all,
Infinite is its destiny.

So why worry
About the trials and tribulations,
The trespassing waters
That rock your minuscule boat,
For those who rock
The beyond salutes you

Time forgets us all eventually.
Dreams define our presence
To the boundless universe.
A blink of the eye!
A fleeting thought
Through perfect stillness.

Eternal becomes our rest,
And through this…
“That is not dead
which can eternal lie,
And with strange aeons
even death may die.”*

* H.P. Lovecraft, (1921) ‘The Nameless City’

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Poem © Phen Weston

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