‘Prescription For Existence’ by Andrew Bradford

In general, I thought less about it with each passing day

Until later it had faded so completely that I did not care

Smelling the sweetness of some Elysian Field, deeply sensing the perfection

The reality of what has become accepted truth is nothing but a patterned rumor

Then trillions of years pass and nothing remains but what is essential:

Breathing, seeing, causing, farting, eating, discovering, passing, fading, disappearing

Look at the cover and understand what it truly means to be filled with reverent awe

Read the words as if they are some holy script long since lost among the sands of time

Standing near the ocean, screaming for respite, for order, for one last gasp

But none shall be given–it has been ordained

Shallow sips of air, more, silently begging into the ether

For a last moment of grace

Yet handed only dust and ash.

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