Two strands of Fate, once entwined,
Set out their destinies to unravel;
To find what freedom they could find,
To travel where they longed to travel;
Into nothingness traversing blind,
To submit to Escape’s mighty gavel.

They weren’t the first to choose that path,
But those before had left no signs,
No guidebook to escape Reality’s wrath,
No landmark that their route defines,
To soak their selves in the bloodbath
Where matter and anti-matter combines.

They happened across a kindly sage
And stopped to hear what he would say;
And hoped the wisdom that comes with age
Would help prevent them going astray;
And hope his discerning eye would gauge
Their plight and help show them the way.

“Pardon me, sir, we need some direction,
We search for death or obscurity,
Where no parent frowns on imperfection
And no priest insists on purity,
Where there is no chance of resurrection,
And oblivion is a surety.”

The sage replied, “Death is not hard
To find at all, I hardly think you two,
Whose minds I hold in high regard,
Have ever harbored any intention to
Take measures to ignominiously discard
That shell that your soul suffers through.”

The two sat in silent, stricken wonder,
At the sage’s omniscient sight,
And answered, voices dark as thunder,
“’Tis true, death gives us no delight,
We seek body and soul thus to surrender,
That our body lives but soul takes flight.”

“Ah”, said the sage, “The truth at last.
So that’s where you two wish to go,
Insanity, the refuge of the harassed,
The shelter from intellectual vertigo,
The world that offers grim repast
To thirsting hearts drunk with woe.”

“Of life, of reason, of expectation,
Where is oblivion, where the end?
I will show you the way to your destination,
But pray you don’t reap the dividend
Of this flirtation with abnegation;
Insanity, you’ll find, is just round the bend.“


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