Philosophy's a foolish game
For men who have no hearts
It lets them think they understand
Why everything departs
Whether the will of God they see
Or karma's burden spent
A lesson learned, a need fulfilled
Or heavenly ascent
It's just a way to ease their mind
And hide the simple fact
That when the test was put to them
Their empathy, it lacked
Don't let their words console you
Don't let them steal your tears
Don't take the comfort offered
By plugging up your ears
The dead do not lie silent
Their pain was not a lie
Grief is their cry for justice
And to see that no more die
~Tonin, Nov 12 2023
I found a dead kitten today. Four or five month old brown tabby, with cute ear tufts and a brown nose. I'd heard a cat in distress a few weeks earlier, and looked for it, but couldn't find it.
The part of me that wrote a lot of poems about death and cycles and fatalism would spew some rubbish here about how nothing really dies, and how the kitten is now food for insects who will be food for song birds who are food for other kittens, and so on and so forth. Or maybe it'd talk about causality, and how the kitten had to die as a result of the laws of physics and the position of the stars eight billion years ago. Or about balance, and how dark things are needed to provide contrast to the bright ones.
The part of me that had to bury a beautiful young cat is upset that I didn't look harder, and angry at my asshole neighbors who can't be bothered to spay or neuter their cats, or to take care of the kittens.
That first group of reactions is a lot easier emotionally. It's also way less likely to prevent other kittens from dying alone and afraid, meowing for help that never comes.
People feel things for a reason. Ideologies that try to blunt those feelings are not good. If life gives you a choice between passively accepting horrible things or getting fucking angry and doing something to stop it, choose that second one.