There's an empty chair
In the corner of the room
Beside the chair is a lamp
Beside the lamp lies an open book
On the wall
Are photographs
Hanging from the ceiling
A fan
I never know where I'm going
Until I get there
Your memories are fading
They weren't really that strong
In the first place
You practiced selective recall
And the past that you see
Is really your future
You have all the things
That money can buy
Materially
You are well-endowed
Then why the worry
On your face
Do you yet fear the madding crowd
Some people travel far
Yet they do not leave this world
Because the points connect
And the path
Circles back on itself
Preciseness
Is a laudable goal
Though it reeks
Of artificiality
What bounds has the Universe?
None as far
As one can see
Then why should we
Attempt to categorize
Our earthly existence
God is invisible
So is everything
That matters
Service to a greater cause
Means self-rejection
But it should
Never mean
Unnecessary violence
Where is our place
Of worship
If it's everywhere
Then we're in trouble
There's strength in numbers
Unless you can't count
I dare to look around me
But all I see
Are pre-arranged shapes
They have a fleeting reality
But the same could be said
For the microscopic forces
That make them up
It's one day among many
But it's not the day
I've been waiting for
