Void

  Sometimes, I feel the urge

To sink all at once,
For perhaps the pain would be less
Than the agony of sinking slowly.

The weight of our mortality
Is painful and conflicting,
An experience like no other,
A deep and relentless root.

We live, or merely survive,
Like one who feels the pain of a tooth
Throbbing in the dead of night:
Intense and constant, yet insufficient.

Why all of this,
If in the end, we are nothing?
The end, an unavoidable truth,
Death, the indecipherable enigma.

So, we wish for children,
We ask God for descendants,
An extension of our "forever,"
A bit more life, a bit more time.

The beginning, the middle, and the end,
The cycle of existence.
The nothingness.