On Love, Despair And Everything In Between

Oh this all-powerful idea :

that this life is the only one.

This life that persists for eternity, the soul, even beyond death,

any sin virtue and choice, all-important; the ''Heaven'' gate.

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What if, upon dying at last, of some

fatal injury or of old-age, of untimely forbidden suicide

or even murder, one simply

lets go of life, embraces death's coming at last;

To then open one's eyes once more, to live

the same exact life forever more

in eternal recurrence...

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To stumble upon a friend and a lover

and know for a fact that these laughters and tears

are but a cycle, a repetition of the higher parts

What bliss in one's ambition, one's greatness,

what unbearable weight upon one's life!

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How terrifying. How overwhelming that idea is!

That our choices echoes forever more in the infinities

of existence, inescapable; our only choices

to love, to despair, and to strive for greatness, absurdly.