What sweet delusion to think one has a soul.
To think that we are more, than the blood and bone and gore.
We are no better, nor are we worse,
Than the plants, animals or earth.
We have the ability to question. Yet we retain the audacity to think we have the right.
We are conscious of ourselves.
Yet we do not understand who we truely are.
We think our choices matter.
Yet after we are gone from this earth, no tear shall be shed.
We are made from dust, and to dust we shall return.
No more, no less. No better than the rest.