loyd.net

A century, and again half a century,
The battles fought—
The conflicts unresolved;
The dead died in vain,
And the living—they go on living in vain.
Death, the mother, lately seems barren,
For no one lives whose death to mourn.

War is neither hell, nor death:
Hell is just, and some escape,
Death is fair and kind to all.
War is meaningless:
Unequal suffering without result.

So go on, live your meaningless lives
Laugh and shout through hedonistic pain.
(I understand—
It was madness that once tempted me
To avoid the world,
To avoid its sorrows.)
Go on, and add to the senselessness
And die your senseless deaths
And be forgotten.
I cannot—
The battle wearies me (for I see
The vanity of it all) but
I must fight,
Not over borders or for power,
Or the thousand senseless things that mankind seeks.
But I fight against the void,
The meaningless of life,
That my death might have meaning,
My life purpose—
That my memory might carry knowledge to the future,
That others will also seek truth,
That art and wisdom will not be forgotten.

Pain Etudes Substance