the idea
of ultimate purpose
is surely
merely
neurotic conceit

left over
from when
what we didn't know
far exceeded
what we had to know
to survive

and even then
the effort
seemed far far
to much
merely for its own sake

plus we got
these big
squishy
secreting things
up top
spewing
and figuring
and comprehending

so it's no surprise
the spaces between
here and there
and the distance
thereafter
got filled

with how special
and godlike
and front row
we just have to be

        Every dog I've ever had
        would lay there
        fast asleep

        and often as not
        while doing so
        woof
        and move its paws
        and whimper
        sometimes even bark

        dreaming its own
        heroic tale
        of dogstars
        and wolfheads

        while the water
        in the tiny little creek
        outside my son's mom's house
        probably not fantasizing at all
        continues it's inexorable
        victory march
        to the greatness
        of the sea itself

the tendency
to arrogance
such notions entail
seems to run
from the taproot

informing even the smallest cell
in the skin
of the littlest toe

that the very idea
such notions are ideas at all
gives most
the shivers

and so like dogs
we whimper and move our paws
build pyramids
and shoot rockets

to the end
that heaven
eternity
immortality
meaning itself
finally rears its glorious head

and we shall then
come to know
our march to the sea
has ended

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