The universe is a playground.
All of these things are toys.
We need eyes to look around,
And ears to hear the noise.

Nothing exists, unless we live,
And nothing there is to do.
Nothing to take, nor to give,
Nothing without me or you.

When we die, it goes away.
It is time to go home again.
Then someday, again we play,
Though we know not when.

(Published by Lone Stars Poetry Magazine, July, 2023)