Cinder

The secret of life and the universe and everything is a distraction. We are here to be distracted from something. I cannot quite put my finger on it. Every moment I get closer to this one small going cinder of truth, I am distracted by these things we call real. Distractions from the distractions.

I may get a brown orange dog and name it Cinder to remind me that this real thing is out there, or right here. Somewhere.

What good is it to find the real thing? What would it buy me to know this one universal truth? Would any one else get it? Would any one else understand the spark knowledge if I showed it to them. would an ant like to know how to make fire? What good would the other ants think of it?

Still, I want to find this cinder. Still it warms me to think of it, to ponder it.

I must brush my teeth, go to bed. Then I go to work and then I'm dead. Have I made any mark on this life? Does any one else feel the warmth? Here Cinder. Come on girl it is time be.