What do we do with an entire life?
What a vast ocean of time
In which to do nothing.
And what a glorious revelation
To know that nothing is at the core
Of all our ambitions.
The voice of God
Is in the creaking wicker
Of a porch swing swaying in the wind
With no one sitting on it.
Is there anything more inviting?
Is there anything more lonely?
The raindrops play on my window pane
And gossip about the old days.
One was a river, another the sea,
And one once played as a tear.
The sky is just a reflection of us.
All those stars are just mirrors
For all the souls looking up and dreaming,
And all those worlds we think are out there
All exist in us.
There’s a pebble on the shore of Rehoboth Beach
That came from one of Jupiter’s moons.
But nobody knows it.
And it would rather be part of a sand castle anyway.