A journey of a million years,
Or was it a billion?
Did your story only start,
When you were born?
When your star dust sparkled
And fought, not gently through
the dark chasm
of interstellar space.
When your ancestors hunted,
Beasts of no tame,
And got hunted by
Beasts of no respite.
When your Grandfather,
Met your Grandmother
And when your Dad met
Your Mother.
Did you really think,
Your story began,
Just 24 years ago?
Are you that stupid?
Who are you?
What are you?
If not for a mere trick
Of Nature’s Coalescence
You are made, grain
By fucking grain,
By that earliest,
Basal star dust.
Just as it made your ancestors,
Who drove raggedy stones
Into great furry beasts
Just to feed their young, your elders.
Just as it made your parents.
And when they loved,
two ancient rivers merged.
A confluence of Nature’s miracles.
And you were born. While a
Nameless lot weren’t. You were chosen,
To extend that line which your elders first etched,
In the primal sands of time.
The fact that you are alive,
That you are breathing,
Is in itself an atrocity.
An act of rowdy rebellion against Miss Death.
And, you. You piece of shit.
What do you do?
Netflix and Chill?
What a cosmic waste of sperm.
