what is the meaning of it all, anywho?
is it part of some grand scheme, some astral plot
to make us whole again
some day far from now?
perhaps, on the contrary, there is nothing;
are we born simply to exist?
No.
that is not a truth i will accept.
there may be no greater destination we are guided towards,
no light at the end of the tunnel,
but what of it?
we are not born to exist.
we are born to live.
there is a crack in the eye of man
like glass, the light in the fracture
is split like the millions who came before it
never to reform
its tongue flicks at me.
out of the puddle of saliva rolls a pearl.
it dissolves.
what does it want from me?
it slithers away, back to its damp home.
i once saw the face of god in the stars
which grinned as it opened its mouth wide
and its dust cloaked the earth
and its light drummed upon the ground
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