Yes,
they all have questions,
don’t they?
I do have some answers that come easily,
earnest and inspiring answers,
a few things I know for sure.
But then they just have more
and better
questions.
I wonder too.

Spot red flags,
and tick the boxes.
Do the math,
then chase the foxes.

A muse opens the door,
and wonder
rushes in.
Awakening
to the virtuosity of nature,
to light holding shadow,
to the psychedelic pop of form and color,
an artist rises,
hungry.

A moment of
forever
in her eyes
stupefies.
I stumble, stiff,
dim, deaf, and dumb,
with no past
but her smile,
and no future
but her embrace.

Silence is a shadow
filled by its beholder.
It’s fortress or an ambush,
a dreamer’s field or burial ground.
It’s fear or hope,
tension or peace,
a welcome gift
or a deafening assault.
It’s stunned confusion
or unspoken understanding,
the moment before a first breath
or the moment after a last.
It’s the storm to come
or the storm come through.
It’s a yes or a no.
It’s a maybe.
Maybe it’s nothing at all.