Life is a comic…
And we are all characters,
Individually useless,
Collectively destructive…
We live, laugh, and love,
Cry, agonize, and die,
For a reason we know not,
Our souls are all too fraught,
Burdened by intellect,
Weighed down by conscience,
Each step towards the future,
Is a step back into the past,
A year older, a year wiser,
Is also a year nearer to death,
An endless cycle of despair,
Where our characters take shape,
Accumulate persona and wealth,
Love and kinship and family,
Then again back to the dusts,
Into nothingness we go,
Our successes and failures,
Our pleasures and pains,
Are comics of another,
Somewhere beyond human thought,
After a hundred year’s living,
After the pains and pleasures,
We experience in life,
Nothingness becomes our life,
The dusts and sands and debris,
We carelessly stampede upon,
Is what will become of us,
The little flower we crush,
The little bee we squash,
The seemingly emotionless,
Animals we eat, will feast upon us,
Into dirt we become and the little flower,
Absorbs our energy for its growth,
And again we turn into nothingness,
A comic we are, intended for laughter,
Somewhere someone designs our character,
Bestows us the ability to love and care
For one another, but in the end can never
Be together, for pure humor, acts that someone.

Text_THAO.