Trash, we are all

We are enlightened pieces of trash. We are cheap imitations of a divine projection that we think photocopied us into the light half of the divine's bifurcation of sun and shadow.

Trash, we are all.

We are enlightened pieces of trash who will one day be tossed aside sometimes before our time, but ultimately we all join that desecrated dirt pile until we become part of it. Diapers outlast our measly frame. Discarded, shit-filled diapers will likely outlast most of the ideas that trash like us finds inspirational.

We are enlightened pieces of trash whose rhythmic cavorting in the breeze we call free will. At best our bodies serve a greater geological purpose by fixing various elements in their mineral form and releasing them slowly over the epochs.

We are enlightened pieces of trash who produce mountains more of the stuff in an effort to find that one thing that will forever satisfy us. We will find it when we succumb to the order of the trash heap.

We are enlightened pieces of trash whose lifetime is but a short glimmer among the stars but who's self-absorbed rationality and survival instincts rot us to the core with the pursuit of perfection.

We are enlightened pieces of trash.

Trash, we are all.