In this worlds scheme,
In the percentage of this world reduced to just numbers,
The mathematical equation of life,
It’s where we are measured,
Out of ten,
One hundred percent,
In between, just above average,
Just a twitch on the Richter scale,
A murmur from Mount St. Helens,
A burp from Krakatau,
Am I the one in ten?
Am I judged on what I have done?
Or who I am,
Am I know in my six degree of separation,
Or not at all,
Witnessed beyond these four walls to those I pass,
Or oblivion in civilian clothes,
A figment of my over active imagination,
Or over complicated bacteria in survival mode,
A necessary evil to the worlds end,
Or vital part to life's mechanism,
Is my non-existence to life a virtue?
Or is my contribution virtuous,
Are we any of us here at all?
Or just the musings of a divinity,
We rush in ever decreasing circles,
Until we disappear,
But are our lives a worthwhile endeavour,
Or just something to kill time,
While we wait for our false idols to call us home,
And we once more are returned to zero.