This poem was originally written to be the ending of the game Futility, which can be played here. It can be read separately here, but for the full impact I recommend reading it only after playing the game and dealing with the rollercoaster of emotions it takes you on.

This too shall pass is a double edged sword. We champion it in troubling times, but hide its truth when things are good. It's equally a reminder that the storm will blow over, but the sun will also set. For better or for worse, things change. And as much as we try to extend the highs and eliminate the lows, it's an immutable truth that one cannot exist without the other. We crawl through life, and we cry, and we carry on, and we laugh. Despite the futile nature of life, our arrogant asses get out of bed every morning. We take on the day. We hate it. We love it. And as complex as our lives get, we forget everyone we see has a personal universe just as intricate. Sometimes we get glimpses into each other's universes by sharing moments, or telling stories, maybe even listening to a song together or sharing a book recommendation. And in our vast, endless, chaotic universes, we march onwards, sometimes together, sometimes alone. Because we wouldn't have it any other way. Because we couldn't have it any other way. Because the alternative is just as frightening and even more dull. Because we're afraid of tomorrow and we can't wait to see what's next. Because this, too, shall pass.