The Vacuous
How vacuous their eyes, brown and gray and blue.
Not a thought projected out, just the reflection of the world
as it sits in judgment.
Am I judging the world, or is it judging me?
I contemplate this paradox as if the world could be my audience
or I the sole audience of the world. Do people really think this way?
It doesn't suit me. I have such a dislike for these ideas.
The world exists not for me, nor I for the world.
We spin independently and randomly intersect at points
along space and time.
I can no more judge another traveler anymore than
I could judge the entire universe.
It expands, just as my mind and knows no bounds.
How could I possibly preside over the infinite?
How vacuous these judging eyes.
Written 9/14/98
Copyright 1998 RFA