The Fact-Finding Mission
A small, gritty piece of the puzzle,
Shouting at the top of my voice.
I ask the questions:
Who am I? Who are we? Why are we here?
I think I even shake a fist at the sky.
I shade my eyes from the sun, looking past the clouds and planets
The day turns to night, and my shouting turns to a whisper.
I am on my knees praying.
I look wide-eyed into the blanket of darkness that shimmers with gem-like pinpoints of light.
At day break, I grab my cup of coffee and blurt my questions again.
I rub my eyes and gaze into the pinkening horizon.
I tweak my ears into prime listening position.
And I wait.
I never wonder how long I will wait.
I never realize that life is passing me by as I wait.
I am steadfast while I wait.
One day, as I lay.
My gray and wrinkled body takes its last breath.
I smile at the face of God before me.
I have finished my race
And God says to me:
Here is your answer.