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Across the lake, behind the low mountain range, dawn glows pink. A lone fisherman trolls down by the dock. Fish bite better early, I'm told. Ideas, too, seem clearer when I'm at my freshest. I set my coffee cup down, turn back to the PC:
Am I a lone sunbeam dancing on a soundless sea? . . .
a microscopic speck somewhere in an endless genetic chain,
part dust, part electron? From what superheated particle
did I evolve?
Tomorrow, will the fisherman come again? Will he hook the One for which he casts? Will I find that for which I search?
Am I a whisper on a dark cosmic wind?
An allusion? A connection?
Or was I never?
What mysteries await as the shadows lengthen
and darken
and the final chill creeps?
© By Rod (AMPAW@aol.com)
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