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Nutshell
In a nutshell I could fit my
life;
All seven thousand, eight hundred and sixty five days
Easily hid behind my thumb,
Planted deep within the earth.
But in this sphere of considerable size
It's no bigger than a crumb
And from what it can surmise,
It has lost its sense of worth.
Though what good is worth beneath the ground
Where nothing knows its name?
And with no God to revere,
Non-existence is profound -
No soul to flee its frame
And rocket towards a celestial sphere
For a life eternal with eternal Beings
To worship for infinity.
Who wants to worship around the clock?
It's not a thought I find very liberating,
(To be subjected by the Trinity)
I'd rather veneration not be my soul's purpose.
And so beneath the Dirt I'll take my stance,
Faith in nothing is a far better chance.
by Ryan Nicholson
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