i am a carousel parasite,
spinning round and round
on this blue marble,
doubting when the end
will come and marveling
at my life and demise.
i circle the same questions,
worn smooth by repetition,
each answer dissolving
as soon as i touch it,
until even my doubt
feels like something alive inside me.
and still the world keeps turning,
indifferent to my battle,
light falling where it wants,
oceans rising and settling,
as if to remind me
i am not the center of anything,
only passing through.