Poemetry by T.A. Barnhart


humans aren’t satisfied
with “propagating the species”
as a reason for existence,
so we make up stories
about god and higher purpose,
but none of it is true.
we are no more than
one life form among many
here on our little blue ball.
the idea that we humans,
in all the vast universe
(and possibly just one universe
among an infinitude of universes)
are the pinnacle of life,
indeed the very purpose of life –
what a delusion.
sentience, it seems,
is no gift from a god
but an evolutionary event,
like the dinosaurs.
it will not be an asteroid
that makes us incapable
of survival.
we are doing that
to ourselves.
our massive brains
are too destructive
to survive their
arrogant genius.
we are so smart,
we invent gods
who give us permission
to end the species.
an asteroid might
be more humane
than we are ourselves.

©TA Barnhart August 28, 2020