Here’s a poem I wrote while thinking about how short life is, the human condition, and the beauty and contingency therein.
“Colors of Meaning”
Never choosing our existence
Nor belonging absolutely
Death becomes the culmination
Nature’s own instantiation
Finding meaning in the color
Existential rainbow arching
Purpose driven dreaming clearly
Vision focused on the nearly
Senses mingle with the pneuma
Cogitation flowing freely
With hallucination blinding
Seek the shadow for the finding
Staring at the dismal pattern
Getting lost inside the labyrinth
Winding through the paths we’ve taken
Searching for a transformation
An ideal that you can fathom
Like a beacon, there to guide you
Climbing higher trying to reach it
Imperfections, they impede it
Staring at the stars above us
Infinite, though I am finite
Glimpses of the vast potential
Modes of being which are essential
Thanatos and eros driving
Auras manifest, surrounding
Interlocked angelic demons
Psyches morphing as the seasons
Drawn to beauty and fulfillment
Eudaimonia completes it
Darkness is the final chapter
Sleeping soundly ever after
The Open Mind 