We drove through the evening blueness at a rapid pace,
streetlights and buildings blurring to join the smear of stars.
The moon was a sliver, the smirk of a watchful stranger
given to those who glance uneasily his way.
Goosebumps grew on my arms
as I took in the sight of garish headlights
driving, driving off into countless destinations
with nameless drivers at the wheels.
The thought of these people--
if they could be considered that--
endlessly running the race
of life with no guide,
no direction save their own egos and whims,
no end goal in sight
How could anyone
waste their days
and nights searching
for a fleeting happiness
that will offer no lasting fulfillment?
How could they be so deluded
as to believe that
drugs, drinks, pleasure, money,
toys, social standing, appearances,
food, or entertainment of any kinds
would actually bring them satisfaction?