Comfort in Stars

Existential crises born of tragedy.

Should I still follow my heart
if I so often go the wrong way?
Should I still take comfort in stars
when I wonder if they betray?

Maybe there's no special meaning;
just isses and isn'ts
Maybe I'm in my own prison
Not an inmate of a celestial being

Is the sun just burning gas?
Are dreams just thoughts that pass?
Does my heart only pump blood?
Is life just life, and not some cosmic class?

My eyes show me what's ahead
My ears tell me what's said
I wonder if things are all just blunt
and if we're all just born, then just dead

I don't know if the void gives solace
nor if it's something to fear
I'm not above and I'm not below
Instead I am just here

I don't know if this is good or bad,
but maybe it is neither
Maybe when my life's been had,
I will just fade into The Ether

I feel all, and I feel nothing
I'm as tall as I am little
Maybe I am truthful and bluffing
Maybe my sense has just been whittled