Accidental Chaos. Poem by Nothing .

What kind of life is this?
When I'm almost at the edge of knowledge's end,
I discover
I know nothing
All my wise thoughts are foolish
All learning, persevering ignorance.
How can I know it all and still be confused
How can I be sure of the truth yet live a lie.


Man is frail
Too frail.
I dare say man is the easiest thing to die
Yet sustaining, ever dire
Mildest becomes the most painful
We name our disease yet we do not know the enemy.
Ever changing ever modified, the enemy slips on new masks faster than it loses the previous.
Why not make peace with this enemy?
Swear them to a pact of honesty.
Perhaps then we would not be so frail
Perhaps then we would live to tell our stories