There is a tunnel at the end of the light,
A path through the void, a final heartbeat
Suspended, neither dead nor alive,
But something else.
For the living each dawn is a ticket
To a random drawing, the infinitesimal
Chance of infinite knowing.
We watch the stars as though
They were a scoreboard, their distance
A game we follow but rarely play.
O, but what greater joy is there than to wonder,
To hypothesize, to dream, to win and to lose,
To divine a withered page of blueprints
Only to forever fall short of the answer to it all?
Written 6/25/14 on the way to Boston for a Fidelity event at the Seaport Hotel
(Visited 35 times, 1 visits today)
Leave a Reply