Ordinary Man

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Flesh and ideas
Hopes and bones
Dreams and blood
Mind stretching as far as it can
Glimpses the horizon
Event horizon yawning before it
Staring across the galaxy with black hole
Eyes
With a soul burning
Bright
Like a dying flame
Sputtering its last
And a body trying to
Keep pace, keep up
But failing
Hair falls out
Teeth rot
Bones shatter
Muscles fail
Skin withers
Cursed mortal shell
Short lived like fruit flies
Loving and hating and worrying and laughing
Living
All transitory, evanescent
Sad
Does the ordinary man
Ever wonder
His place in the placement of things?
His destiny?
Or that the world
Surrounding him
May be an illusion - a game?
Does the ordinary man -
The last of his breed -
Ever......
Wonder?