Life is a mystery…
And that is the cliché
I use to describe
My confounding experience of it.
That’s the irony
Of life
That I depend on the dead
To help me understand the living…
What if I gave up this strife…?
Would my not-knowing
Be any less
Than it is now?
I’m beginning to see
How acceptance
Is moral and complete
And how it immediately harmonizes…
Perhaps there’s wisdom and beauty
In dwelling in the silence
And not soliciting the overused
To speak about it.
When things can be said
How much more eloquent
Would it be
To not say them.
Wit. Wisdom. Wonder... 