A shallow world but for the hubris. Plane
Of dust, sparse spiked with egos' vanities.
Proud pinnacles of hollow confidence
Strut pointless in a barren endless space.
And in this, sometimes, seldom, comes a flash
of purest exaltation, joy; a rush
of expectation, hope. Could it be held,
It would atone for all the world's deceits.
Deity offering compensation?
A glimpse of Morning flashing through the cave?
Or just a bonus unplanned neural fluke
Stimulated by lunch's chemistry?
Or all that was, and is, and is to come
Of meaning, in a doubful memory?