For a Friend

[quining]

I had, at one point in time, considered my atheism a point of strength: i did not waste time with the addled myths and flimsy ritual that occupied others. No, i knew (or as close as one can come in these matters) that we are alone, unbounded, a thing apart. I still know this. I do. But what strength can be drawn from the random cruelty of a mute, unthinking thing? What solace can be found in the face of idiot tragedy? Quiet matter (protons, electrons, atoms) skates along a universe that is the circumference of our eyes, their knotted pathway to our brain, the work that happens there. No order, no agency, no lessons, no blame. And what is worse? A useful fiction or a devastating truth?

There is nothing out there; there is no one to be mad with. Words, gods, platitudes, facts are all too small for a day like ours.