I sometimes think I saw or see bursts
Of light in my dying distances and
Distances yet to be traveled
But they either flicker out or stay eternally distanced.
My future is like a field of lightening bugs
Flashing and blackening every second,
Everywhere and nowhere.
Or it’s like a long night of insomnia in the frigid middle of winter
Because what is the human experience but kicking and tossing
In the dark,
In the cold,
Fearing to shed pathetic blankets
And expose a human tenderness to the raw,
Ripping atmosphere?
Man has no reason to continue in life
Other than that he thinks he may have seen
Bursts of light.
