The Nihilist Travels

Does the nihilist travel? Because I wonder what they see.

Do they steal the colours from a rainbow, and the history from a quay?

When they see a little village, do they plunder all it’s quaint, when they spot a masters piece do they respect the masters paint?

They’d balk at a gladiator, uninspired by the roman arch, never stop to think if the attitude is harsh.

When a nihilist goes travelling and decides on what to see, do you think they go to places from which they’d prefer to not have been?

Imagine your summer in Venice, red wine by the canal and the whole time you’re imagining a place just so banal.

If a Nihilist visits Africa, the sun setting in the Mahgreb. A Mahgreb in the Mahgreb, would they’d rather watched television instead?

Would an ancient Irish dolmen give more answers than questions? Is how ancients celebrate solstice even worth a bloody mention?

Would they go and learn of new worlds, with a unique type of sorrow, and succor on a vacuum of meaning in the many days that follow?

Would a Cathedral built by Visigoths that took 200 years to build, raise an eyebrow from you man? Do you wonder the number killed?

And the pyramids, built many years before monotheistic religion, why would you brave the Egyptian sun just to go out and to see them?

Do Nihilists operate from day to day with any kind of hope? Is this the thing that stops them wondering how a man becomes a pope?

Look, do the people that you meet inspire anything in you? Or they come across as simple, asking questions while travelling through?

You ask their name and their state but you don’t ask any more. Is it because you’ve met 100 like that before?

But dear nihilist, ask yourself, have they met 100 of you? Deep down you must know they haven’t, you have some reckoning to do.

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