Impossible

We, since first we were guileless apes,

Have stood beneath the star choked sky,

Staring up at the eternal yawning breach.

We stare because we have no choice at all, 

Beckoned to our fate, moths to midnight flames.

No matter how busy and cluttered the world's grown

That light punched dome shrinks us,

Separates us into our composite parts.

Our beautiful science silenced by the void.

Fingers tremble in awesome glorious terror

That the scope is much too large

How very impossible it does't merely seem, but is.

In actuality, in truth, undeniably impossible,

That everything lined up in just the right way.

That we exist at all on our weird little dot

It is in this moment, trillions of them,

Spread across the space time of existence,

God was born. Born and born and born again.

Not a face or a name or a rule or a voice,

Just the hopeless, gaping enormity of Impossible.

Some of us walk on and kill that God,

With reason and logic or absolute denial.

Other give it a new shape and a name,

The build towers of laws and rules and dreams around it,

Anything they can to keep from falling in.

We are built on all the ways we find to stay sane.

But just the same, it always remains,

A seed of belief in the end of all things.

Because under the weight of a thoughtless universe,

We know, we are impossible, that which should not be.

We stare into the abyss and we are seen.