So Many Questions

 

You almost never know where you’re going
Until you get there:
The road is never wide or straight
Always narrow, meandering
Over hill tops, across valleys
Down in the depths of the sea
Over the sky, past the moon
Beyond the dark side of the sun
It never ends
And you are never blessed with time
Do you even know what you’re looking for?
It doesn’t have a face or shape
Could you possibly pick it out in a crowd?
Would it desire you back
As much as you’ve wanted it all your life?
So many questions
Answers we shall never know
But who are we not to ever ask?

 

November Falls

If Jupiter, Mars and Venus

Were the sun, the star, and your smile

In November the sky falls

Fallow the fields

Leaves once green go brown

As brilliant the stars align

Where do we go

Beyond Andromeda

Medea sleeps in my bed, my dear

Where can we really go from here?