'the traffic of eternity' (to comet)

at the end
of nothingness is 
somethingness...

off in the distance i hear
a low rumble with a bit of whoosh. 
tires on the pavement of  interstate 495
sends those sounds though the air to my eardrums.

creatures who call themselves people
walk this tightrope called life, 
and wonder who named it that.
hurtling through space, we are often
just a small  fragment  of that distant traffic.

dreaming of living forever,
dreaming of going far ,  far , away.
dreaming of not going at all 
dreaming of a painless stay.

at the beginning 
of somethingness is
the end
of nothingness

we need
someone to share that.
and that same someone 
to share the same.

© 2001
ajr