Jumping Puddles

The world around us continues to spin
As we continue to live
We know nothing now, if ever
We live only long enough to guess, I guess
At what it all means
On how we’re all so lucky
And so chaotic
And so appreciative of the beauty we also love to destroy.
Tampering with perfection to make it just like us
Makes us the creators
And the pretenders
And the punch line of some sick, cruel joke
Called existential insanity.
A.k.a., being human.
Yeah it’s a lot of fun to feel the things we feel
To be capable of passion
To be ruled by possibility
And to make messes of perfection
Personally, I love jumping in puddles.
They splash everywhere with muddy debris
That you never notice when you first look at them-
Like, if you’d never disturbed it, would it still be perfect?
Even though it was dirty beneath the mirror façade?
But I can never resist the urge to send ripples across a surface
Instinct I guess? But how can it be, if instinct is animal?
And the urge to change is an innately human thing.
We also create beautiful things, I guess
Add some spice to an otherwise dreary existence
Drama queens, all. Attention seekers and adrenaline addicts
We wouldn’t have it any other way
Risk is our drug of choice, and we’re the only ones who do that.
What happened to all the rest of creation when that band wagon first rolled in?
Why did the plants and the animals refuse to jump on? Were they too smart?
Or too scared? I say we humans are brave, but that’s only because we’re stupid.
Way, way too stupid. Although, our stupidity is sort of what makes us brilliant.
I bet dolphins could do what we do if thy just took a chance every now and then.
But, on the other hand, maybe they know that
And maybe they just don’t want to.
I mean, we are the species that spends all its time figuring out how to kill each other
How to make weapons of mass destruction.
We like to pretend we own the world
Whereas everything else knows the reality.
Maybe that’s why our lives are so short.
So fleeting, so very small and unimportant
Because if we were able to hang around long enough
We might figure out what the dolphins
And the flowers
And the itty bitty insects already know.
And then what would we do?
Where would we be?
Having mortality is a valid excuse for having insanity
You won’t be here forever, what does the earth care
If you go off your rocker a bit?
Or a lot, depending on the situation.
Temporary or long term, you won’t make the earth quake
Or spin off its axis
Just because you want to act a little crazy every now and then.
Just because you want to mess with something clean
Or clear
Or perfect.
What needs to be perfect? Imperfection’s a lot more fun.
As we mortals know so well.
Mortal, mortality.
I will die someday. And I don’t want to.
Obviously.
But maybe the time I’ve been allotted is a blessing
A chance
A small, ray of sunshine
A speck of dirt in an otherwise pristine puddle.
Because if we could live forever,
What, exactly, would we live for?





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