Echoes of a Brief Existence

Sometimes this body feels like an empty vessel waiting to be filled. I yearn for knowledge, and I yearn for answers, for these are the only things in which I find comfort. Existence is a heavy burden we must carry; the least we can do is question it. Yet how selfish we are to believe that this infinite, vast universe owes us an explanation. We are nothing but a speck of dust, and to dust we shall return. And still, we dream of conquering the stars, of marking this stardust with our handprints,a shout into an empty, vast, cold, expanding cloth: “Beware, for we are humans, Homo sapiens. We conquered our Earth, and now we are set to conquer what remains.”

Because we are so selfishly blind, we do not care even for ourselves. We are ready to sacrifice our humanity if it means leaving behind even a mere speck of blood,anything to prove that we are, that we were here, that we exist, that we existed.