Bitterness from the Mass

A darker reflection on what it is to be human.

Listening to a gentle melody, I wait.  Everything around me feeling the oppression of fate. 

I pull out the past; wrapped into a book shaped graveyard.  Walking in the cold, the snow falls upon the stones.  Names are scribed here, an endless reach of souls, all of them having died alone. 

All at once I become aware of the painful truth.  Most of us spend our entire lives seeking some kind of companionship.  Every one of us fails for we each die alone, only to be inscribed into stone; forgetful wisps of a nature that's so cold. 

How much blood does it take to be remembered?  How much turmoil must we endure before we are recognized?  Why do we seek peace when our every moment is filled with war?  We want love, we want the harmony we believe was held in days past.  We have no idea what it is we truly seek, why we are here, what is meant to be.  None of it would matter anyway because we have eons of failure to fall back on. 

These words I write, they reflect what remains within.  I see from this ashen mind the terrible reality that we have become.  None of us have ever lived a life without pain.  None of us have ever known a world without betrayal.  All of us suffer, one way or another and in the end, it is and always has been our own fault.  We built a grand city from the decimation of God, trying desperately to escape the prison of a nature where we were not on top.  Yet here we are, the fallen kings of a dying world.  Our escape gave us nothing but a world where we are our own worst foes. 

What could any of this matter?  Why should we go on?  What purpose could any of this hold; unless we are already in hell for crimes we have no memory of?