Cosmic wheels turn with a silent determination,
the machine of life’s rise and fall ad infinitum,
and vast the plays of expansion and implosion
mark the pristine eternal space,
like splattered light upon a deep purple canvas.
I gaze into infinity, drawn to its dilemma,
its secret whispered vows,
and ponder my own small fate amid its turmoil and shroud,
words are unspoken by a deity, mute,
withholding the reality, remaining aloof.
How I yearn for closure, for respite,
from a seeking mind and relentless plight,
finding meaning in a human purpose,
but outweighed by a cosmic curse,
an unknowable eternal illusion of sight.
I bide my time in human affairs,
seek answers to the questions I bare,
yet the real test of my questioning mind
cannot be envisioned from this place and time,
so in a regrettable acceptance, I move on.
Seek I do my lifetimes on other worlds,
memories that spark more questions than help,
and much the same quandary follows my soul,
in living find purpose, but the reality no hold
as I scan my vast timeless fate.
Are we but a microcosm of the infinite space I ponder,
a repetitive cycle so mirrored yet squandered,
or are we in life a purposeful plant,
an exception to be studied, a meaning so scant
I could barely justify the time.
So many questions, so few answers,
perhaps a symptom of our meager intellects,
but the yearning is real, the answers subjective,
so in my own way I accept, my life here is for that alone
and I must relent my obsession, my eclectic taste.
But still, I stand in awe and bewilderment,
gazing into an eternal confusion,
perhaps all is in perfection, but I,
a fusion of possibility but failing awry,
until I finally meet my maker.
Still, there is much beauty before me,
here on earth, and in that cluttered sky,
and I shall imbibe that and in sufferance abide,
the purpose of my earthly ride,
til truth relents my silent keeping.
Tony DeLorger © 2018
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