As tiny as molecules,
sight like dust might have,
left to settle, to view so little;
we'll be wiped away.

How would you have your corner of earth,
your slice of frozen, packaged pie?
You've hoped for so much worth
but it will leave you hungry.
So we'll wander together as well fed beggars,
two ghosts in search of the afterlife.

We are survivalists displaced,
our wilderness so far away
that it is too far for us to ever reach,
even given eternity;
but we will chase it.
We will bruise and batter our feet,
and come apart at all our seams.
We're only strays.