The illusion of infinity trickles past me in the street
While dwarves and fairies gently tickle at my feet
They tell me of eternity, immortality and all the glorifications of the self
And when their done, I playfully run and take Kundera from the shelf
I show them annihilation and the frustration of all their hopes
And I give them pointers that, over the years, have helped me cope
It pains me to remove the scales from their eyes
But I must, so they don’t cling desperately to lies
For only when eternity dissolves like a misty morning fog
Can we see the true beauty of being just another bump on the log
Of time, for it gives meaning to even the mundane
As if each morning coffee is a splendid refrain
In a greater song, of which we are a part
But from which one day, we must depart
But don’t despair, for death is not a thing to fear
It is a release, a gentle escape from the troubles here
Therefore, enjoy what moments of fleeting joy and ecstasy your given
And while there is still time, stop reading this poem and start livin’
