Broken glass and showers of sparks,
rain down on the asphalt,
that’s slick-black with ice.
A foot hammers pedal to metal,
unaware of tragedy on the horizon,
that’s rushing to greet it at light-speed.
Across the neon-soaked city of money and night life,
a new mother gives birth at the same instant,
that life leaves the accident victim’s eyes.
A seemingly endless circle is formed by these events,
but it is only after viewing them from afar,
that we begin to see their form.
Without the benefit of perspective,
the world would be one dimension; all flat,
no height nor depth, only a dot on a page.
Imagine what we might see,
if zoomed to the grandest scale–
stars, galaxies, a universe.
Perhaps, like neurons and synapses in the brain,
they are connected with purpose.
Perhaps then, we are but DNA– or something smaller yet,
with a role just as great.
Then again, perhaps not.
Only time,
and perspective,
of the endless circle,
may tell.
S. M. Nolan's Sci-Fi Logbook 