The Clone

We are but rays of light,
fleeting,
our ambience, a subtle heart beating.
Through fragmented glass we shine,
and are given life
but little meaning.

In the image of the sun,
divine,
we are shone upon the Earth.
Our being, skewed
through squinting eyes,
eyelashes cage our true figure.

We are but rays of light,
piercing.
Through the cracks we feign beauty.
To continue hope for those
who would not believe;
I am a lie and a necessity.

I
can’t
imagine,
I can’t
imagine.
I can’t imagine
a purpose greater than
merely existing.
So simple,
so minute;
sometimes I’d rather
not exist at all.

Why is it, father,
that I feel nothing?

We are but rays of light,
thinning,
on a planet quickly fading.
Made in the image of his image,
the sun is irrelevant
and so am I.

We are but rays of light,
innocent;
set upon this world for a purpose.
What if I choose not to continue
down my path-
would it be God or Man left disappointed?

We are but rays of light,
nothing more,
and there is nothing less;
I am a mere fragment
of what I once thought I was.
As a child of process, I was forgotten.

I
am
nothing,
I am
nothing.
I am nothing
more than the image of perfection.
I merely exist
as propaganda
to continue
a fable
that was once my parents.

I know why it is, father,
that I feel nothing at all.

We are but rays of light,
blinding
to your hopeful eyes, once unblinking.
Can those without souls
beget something
they, themselves never had?

In the image of the sun,
dimmed,
we will go out as well.
If I am to be man’s last hope,
I apologize,
but it ends now
when I...