Fear of not finding the truth...

Today we are writing about fear, in any way shape or form....
dversepoets.com








Fear of not finding answers ~


I wish to be unfettered by the news 
of plague amid all manner of rumblings 
of the earth
From my helpless, hopeless feelings toward 
an angry society,
I turn only to what I know to be true, 
my experience and what is at hand

I place my pen down on the blank page of 
my notebook, where I sit on a twisted 
driftwood log, 
unable to write my life as a book, 
or any book, with beginnings, a mid-life, 
and a smashing ending.

I pluck yellow flowers, mini-spindled sunbursts, 
notwithstanding their deep running roots, 
growing from under 
the sand at my feet, between wood and smooth rocks 
close to the waves

I place the stems on the same page beside 
the pen in the book
as the flowers already begin to wilt
Flowers pressed temporarily inside a book, 
await rediscovery 
as I check my mind again for unfound words

How will I know how it all unfolds 
after I am gone?
Faint gull calls, a distand train whistle
ride a brisk winds to my ears
Perhaps traveling longer the path I am on
will provide answers, an easing of  my fears

I take detours through what is left of the 
forest of elegant ideas and 
unfulfilled dreams
I fear not knowing everything, the sum 
of the equation, the punch line of the joke
Is there more? Why or why not nothing else?

I build a small fire with wood shavings and
tinder gathered from the forest's dry floor 
I blow on it, hastening the warmth for cold hands
I feel a oneness come over me as 
the essence of pine penetrates my soul.