Floating

I find myself drawn to the road, to the faces on heads looking in desperation for a sign. I check my books for a reference, a marker, even a lens through which I can view the world. Older now, but no wiser. Stuck in 9th grade making peanut butter sandwiches. Jobs. Wives. An endless string of this and that all of which lead to nothing but a yearning for something I know doesn’t exist and never did.  Everything is an illusion except the mortgage payment that hangs out there requiring more and more of my life to be poured into it.  For what?  A place to shit?  A place to store my shit?  A place to die?  Lost in the zone between here and somewhere else. Lost in the zone between knowing something and feeling there is nothing to know. Nihilism.  And yet…  I have it easy in my deluded state with my wife the only thing keeping me on the sidewalk and out of the gutter, keeping me doing the dishes and sweeping the walk.  Is there anything else?  I am on the river floating to the sea of eternity. All of this a flicker of light in a vast space of darkness. I didn't exist for an eternity and then I won't exist for another eternity. And this time between the two is a party that will end just as it's getting started.