The Greatest Curse

I cast aside all but logic once more
And hope to make sense of this reality
Set one foot in the mind of the mind-whore
Ego death: truth skeleton key
Fathomless depths of lucidity
Inheriting new dimensions
As thought is the mold of perceptivity
In the cosmic sea, tides void of prehension
How can we hope to discern truth with our eyes when we're in a visionless universe?
Strain your mind, theorize a "how", comprehend our place, now you fathom the greatest curse
The severing of oneself from conceptualized time
Impossible perhaps, just 'til the knell does chime
Won't everything be recycled in infinite paradigm?
Or is to know hopeless, infinite wall to climb?
Inconsequential; I've long since accepted
Despair passed then came vexation
At uncertainty itself being certain
One of few guarantees like cessation
Yeah, we've all heard "life is but a dream"
But, one so immersive, it might as well be
For all that exists: merely ideation's glean
And this consciousness is the anomaly
How can we hope to discern truth with our eyes when we're in a visionless universe?
Strain your mind, theorize a "how", comprehend our place, now you fathom the greatest curse
Life rusts away with each moment
Temporary cog in our temporal machine
A cruel place for sentience
For the skeleton queen hasn't bones to pick clean
In our race to comprehend their marrow
Blind to the fact that the bones were always hollow
For there's a "how" but there's never been a "why"
Our universe knows not, and so we follow
Our sciences: products of will to bare our eyes
To that which simply is
The statement's brevity reflects that of our lives'
Verbosity useless
The most lamentable design
Too cognizant of our pitiless master
Who lent me her ear for my deepest questions
But deaf all along, she's the cruelest of bastards
So immense, our capacity for knowledge
Boundless potential inevitably wasted
To die with curiosity unsatisfied's our pledge
Concludes the dream, we've already faced it
Death always has been hard to grasp
For how can we grasp what does not exist?
These psyches have outgrown their singular task
Yet every cosmos of thought shall soon be dismissed
So complex, can't comprehend itself
Where this is all emphatically anomalous
Purpose, like life, always was our illusion
Futility in lungs of a breathing necropolis
Now aligned with reality
Our thoughts dwell in it, but absolutely nothing can they change
And while to us, it's a damn shame
To our master, a beginning is an ending prearranged
Indifferent through lack of consciousness
And yet, here we are, the sentient and perceptive
Natural intelligence has proved itself unfair
As the greatest curse is the gift of perspective