A lot of people tell me that we’re not very good people

Life is pain

A lot of people think it’d be better if we just died off

Joy is an illusion

 

Nihilists.
Too smug and self assured in their own misery to ponder for even a moment

That their misery is not a product of an uncaring universe, but an unimaginative mind

 

The universe is cold

And dark

And meaningless

But who cares? Who really cares?

 

Since when do we humans need the approval of anything greater than ourselves?

I say such a thing is not only unneeded,

But impossible.

There is nothing greater than ourselves.

 

God is dead, and we have killed him

Must we not become gods ourselves to appear worthy of the task?
 

We create our own meaning

We define it

We control it

 

 

we will not lose.

 

 

An infinite volume of nothing

stretches out in the distance

But a point of flickering flame

in the infinite void

is a beautiful thing

And we will prove the universe wrong.