What is the price of a human soul?
What is the cost, what does it weigh, when put on a scale? What are we worth, if we are the stardust we are romanticized to be? What could we be if we are not? What would be a worthy exchange, an appropriate and deserving unit?
Success, beauty, immortality, …magic?
We fear death, but we are only human. It awaits us always, in the end. Would it make sense to trade the essence of our substantiality to continue the state of existence?
Without a soul, are we nothing? Or are we merely without heart, without humanity? Another creature, but still living? A different species? Would we qualify in the category, ‘monster’? Or just another wild beast without a mind to be tamed?
Morality. How do I fit into the ‘good person’ category?
Too many agree, it is better to be dead inside, to never feel a thing again. Oh, the carelessness of humans when it comes handling one another. We bruise the other apples in the basket mashing ourselves. And the rot sets in… no one can hurt you if you hurt yourself first. It spreads, like plague, and masking the rosy red of the entire basket, a covering picnic blanket.
And if we are all nothing in the end, what are we existing to achieve? What is the point of being meaningless? How beautiful can dust and ashes, dirt and clay be?
Let’s just all pretend we are the glittery stuff of our sweetest dreams and dance the waltzes of the galaxies. And when we’re dead and gone at least we were beautiful once.