Making Peace with Oblivion

Retiring may not suit me . . .
My calendar is clear.
My cell phone is dead (a hot tub drowning victim).
I am not lonely, but I am longing . . .

Not sure for what.

With relief, I watch the story of my profession unfold without my efforts,
The war against depression or anxiety or other states of madness, wages on.
A gene here, a protein there or
Some irresistible event or an immutable psychosocial state
Explaining why people suffer. Nothing one could prevent or reverse.
Nothing to do here based upon the evidence . . .
This is the state of our scientific pursuits.
I am relieved of its burden,
But I wonder why something so hollow could have been so heavy.

Helpless . . .
Is this the lesson of our science?
Is this the focal point of our understanding of human complexity?
We still may be defeated on an astronomical stage by some magnificent, glorious act of physics.
But on the biological, ecological and evolutionary stage, it is more likely that
Gluttony, greed and lust will become the defining characteristic of all life, including human.
Will we end our existence on this world
Killing the host with the ridiculous goal of covering the oceans with our nucleic pollution.
Are there data to say otherwise?

I am content.
Content . . . and yet, longing.
I did nothing but open my door to the suffering,
Offering them nothing but a sympathetic ear,
And a potion for symptomatic relief,
Loosely tied to some scientific dogma . . .
I fear it was not enough.

The universe is a hostile space to us.
Empty and cold.
It has no enmity for us, just its irrefutable ways,
It cannot swerve or sway.
Our human world is a mote in its eye, a bubble of exception,

However, in the beginning, matter was the exception.
Hydrogen, helium, oxygen, carbon and nitrogen, exceptions!
Water, salt, sugar, amino acids and fats, certainly exceptions!
DNA, genes and proteins, remarkable exceptions.
Altruism, compassion and wisdom are not just exceptions,
They are signs of the unstoppable march of the universe to complexity.
Scientists call this chaos.
This is our path . . .
This is my path now . .

I have made peace with oblivion,
Or is it just a treaty . . . ?