an epiphany

and in the dark of the night, the lonely assassin of happiness and certainty screams out at the eternal void, the sparkling lights of dying stars punctuating the darkness with a glimmer of hope, hope he no longer feels inside.

the vastness leaves me with an epiphany, a lightbulb moment of emptiness, that renders everything vain and uninspired, but it's neither uninspired or vain.

our very existence is worthy of something, anything, even if not reverence, but relevance at the very least.

and in the unforgiving, truth-revealing abyss that holds a captive audience at night, I the lonely assassin of happiness and certainty screams the infinite nothingness, as the constellations of old flicker and show signs of constancy. existence is not futile, resistance to the insistence that man is borne of and for nothing, is as arrogant as it is a falsehood.

maybe, just maybe this is the inane mumblings, overlywrought feelings of someone who has had too little sleep, maybe just maybe, the only thing that matters is what matters to us as individuals, everything else it flotsam and jetsam for the rest of this.

*

Thanks for reading!

Author's Notes: Looked at the night sky...saw a night sky on a TV show full of stars and was compelled to write this. Full-on stream-of-concsiousness.

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