The other side of the Bipolar spectrum

What behavior leaves me to wonder where time has gone,
When these stones were the first that I have prayed upon
And i somehow still believed that I may live forever.

I had yet to curse my mother for giving birth to something impermanent.
Science had always seemed to be one genome manipulation away from keeping us regenerative.

Now I no longer do what I have been trained for,
Dreaming has become just a circumstantial component to that which
Does not strip me of delusional behavior.

Reality has marched itself from the oblique straight into the certainty of these fields.
This will be my home for millenia.

Will I ever unburden myself of these extremes.
No clarity or confusion seems to be enough to carry me off this patch of grass that I blindly seek out, so that at least I know what eternity looks like.

Body becomes bone.
Bone becomes dust.
And I will have spent a fraction of a percent of the earths existence looking beyond it.

How fragile I feel.

How so far removed from timelessness.

It’s no wonder so many try to convince themselves they will witness the second coming.
But I’m still the one they call crazy.