Strangers in Our Own Universe

The riddle of life:
Pictures and their negatives.
Both linked together.
One clear, unlike the other:
A person and his shadow.

The riddle of life:
The moon circling the Earth.
A friendly neighbor.
Infant nursed by its mother.
With celestial apron strings.

The riddle of life:
Day followed by the nighttime.
 Perpetually —
A ritual and a cycle.
Together, for completion.

The riddle of life:
A hiccup and its ceasing.
An interference.
That signals we are alive.
Like stoplights on the highways.

The riddle of life:
Obstacles we encounter.
From birth until death.
All with their own intentions.
All filled with their own meaning.

The riddle of life:
Having its ebb and its flow.
Movement is vital.
All things are transitory.
Active — but not permanent.

The riddle of life:
Our pursuing solutions.
Going in circles.
Like cats biting their own tails.
An adventurous drama.

The riddle of life:
We don’t know its beginning.
Only its presence.
And we abhor its ending.
Protecting our dimension.

The riddle of life:
Infused with our consciousness.
Of things that are seen.
 Yet remaining unconscious.
Of the things that are not seen.

The riddle of life:
The One comprised of Many.
With a circumference.
That encompasses the All.
Its beginning, its ending.

The riddle of life:
Our stage for a wee moment.
With us as actors.
All players with diverse roles.
With entrances and exits.

The riddle of life:
The Conscious and Unconscious.
Two parts of ourselves.
None of which is fully known.
Strangers in our universe.