Crucible

Aren’t we but naught,
Shackled to a speck sailing
Into the perpetual vastness
Of the accrescent void,
Divine infinity in all its splendour?

Haven’t we always sought
Elucidations to enigmas eluding,
A panacea to the innate madness,
Ammunition for the tabloid
Doomed never to flounder?

Aren’t we an obstinate lot,
Aspirations for attainments ascending,
Flaming to vanquish inertness,
In no way paranoid,
Destined to hitherto conquer?

Haven’t we invariably fought
Forces forestalling and fazing,
Bridled nature’s vehemence,
Yet the qualm of being astutely decoyed,
Impending abrupt rancour?

Aren’t we all we’ve got,
None to nurture neighbouring,
Not one to spark happiness,
Desperate even for the amoeboid
No matter where we saunter?

Haven’t we been taught
That albeit apparitions alluring,
Raging stars will attain eerie calmness,
All held dear, the callous chill will render void,
Cosmos cosmic, yet still a chamber?