PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant… April 8, 2015

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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I Am Not Sure

I am not sure

Of what is truly pure

I can not attest

To all that is best

I have come to note

Not stand afar and gloat

For there is much to learn

And little time to burn

So what do I need?

Is it seed or weed?

Shall I speak

Or silently seek?

Flash a winning smile

Or refrain from all guile?

I have questions, you see

The answers evade me

For following a star

Doesn’t get me too far

And staring at the sky

Answers where, but not why

Foolishness is the schemer

Patience the redeemer

But why should I wait

For an illusive fate

Yes, now is the season

And presence the reason

Live like a man

Grab what I can

Cast to the earth

Mothered by my girth

But is there divine

In this soul of mine?

Am I a son of Eden

Or a bastard, getting even?

The answers are deep

And much too cheap

To have lasting worth

Or afford a second birth

Yet I will apply

Until at last I die

A ferocious yearning

To everything a turning

And rejoice beyond measure

When I find a hidden treasure.

 

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