Poetry I wrote at some point between 2013 and 2014, re-titled in 2021. My feelings on this topic are less intense, but I still understand this feel.

Black holes do not crush things because they have a desire to.

The universe exists, and it only exists. It does not want, it does not plan, it does not change its course, and it is not selfish.

Planets do not seek power. Their gravitational pulls are not greedy.

If nature is destructive, this is chance. Nature’s victims are not its enemies, are not its constituents, and were never its friends.

We can claim to be one with nature all we want. We will never be so gracious.

We are beneath her, and will never understand her. We reproduce for lust, waste life for love, spill blood for pride, and claim that she is our design for glory.

To liken humanity with nature is an insult to her order, because we are chaos.

We are emotions, we are chosen acts of violence, we are conscientious existence, we are destruction.

We are the desire to crush the universe.