The Existential Crisis

In darkness we tread,
Lost, forsaken, and dead,
Shrieking, shouting, secretly silent
And sad.
No clear path through the rough,
No known end within sight,
Doomed, seems we are,
To this relentless night.
When man had killed God,
What was left to remain?
What’s to save us from torment,
Suffering and pain?
They say, “Be just to be!”
What a dense load of crap.
Why be at all,
when being’s a trap?
What’s even left to exist
When morality fades?
What material possession
is worth such decay?
Down with them all!
Dammed be you fools!
If I’m going out,
I’m taking you too!
Wait!
What is this?
That’s a peculiar sight.
In the face of destruction
Exists a beautiful light.
A chance to rebuild,
To create life a new,
Life of freedom, and passion,
Although currently blue.
There is beauty in sadness,
For it means that I cared,
And to care is a purpose,
Though, for it, I’m scared.
And fear is a purpose,
A challenge, a quest,
I shall find my way through
Before laying to rest.
My journey through darkness,
through hell and back,
Helped me see what it was,
Just what this world lacked.
Not purpose, not meaning,
Not kindness or care,
Just the freedom to dream, desire,
And dare.
We may suffer and cry,
For that is our fate,
There’s no escaping our nature,
no closing the gate.
But we will love and we’ll laugh,
We’ll dream and create,
We’ll paint and we’ll sing
And we’ll investigate.
We’ll be heroes to all,
Hell, or even a few,
The hero you once wished
Would come to save you.
The task at our hands,
Won’t be easy or quick,
But live on we must,
Through both thin and thick.
God may be dead,
But spirit still lives,
It’s time to move on,
It’s time to exist.