Inconsequential

On some days,

I am nothing but a ‘par hasard’

I am nothing but a consequence 

Of a once done action 

Would you reverse it 

I wonder

Would you have it another way

I wonder

Would you feel what I feel

I wonder 

On some days, 

I am nothing but a loud noise 

In a big house,

All between echoes 

I exist, as nothing but a noise

Travelling back and forth

Aimlessly.

Looking for a wall perhaps, to bounce back

Let me be a good ‘par hasard’

Let me be a good ‘echo’

I tell myself I matter

I tell myself I am loved

I hold myself, I rock myself back and forth

I curl up like a foetus 

Wondering if I matter.

An echo, a disturbing sound

An accident.

I give myself life

By stringing together 

Some lifeless words.

Do they make sense together? 

I wonder

Or do they make sense in isolation 

I wonder.

Its okay to not have a meaning perhaps

To exist as a speck

To accept to be it all, 

And nothing at once.

To be that inconsequential speck

That wouldn’t matter.

Isn’t it important to matter

Isn’t it important to exist with meaning 

Isn’t it important to be consequential?

I wonder, I wonder, I wonder.