By chris w.
Date: 16 July 2000
Meandering
Such a clear, crisp night in mind invokes
the search again for conclusions.
But questions asked are themselves
hard to fathom.
One must begin with appreciation
for the ability to question in the first place.
But this little step in some direction,
no comfort affords,
as I am vaguely aware of the beautiful, insidious,
powerfully inspiring and destructive
motives which reside too deep inside to elicit
with thought.
Do I hope for happy endings with love and life after death?
Or am I just afraid to acquiesce
my already assumed position of significance?
Or, are there universal answers to be had?
It seems to me that while the search goes on,
there are steps to make.
And love can one step be for if nothing else,
it sets one in a place.
The comfort there is a net for catching
as one ascends the heights of the largest questions.
And while initial failures cause consternation,
another's arms await to hold one in one's trepidation.
And if answers do not come, is the decision then made
that this love who provides warm comfort
is enough for contentment?
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