Holding back is an impulse for those of us
who spell 'happy' with a question mark.

We are the restless, thinking deeply;
trained to accept a consuming plateau.

We follow theories in patterns so as to clumsily grasp at
a conclusion to poke holes in and a reason to follow it
around again - the upended bicycle wheel spins and
we push ever harder - desperate to find something new;

Words to write or notes to piece together on a
set of strings or keys to show we're here and happy?

A little grain of our forever-doubt to leave behind
after spending lives tracing a question mark;

Weaving a pen around the joy that grows in the
middle of our road to arrive at an empty point.

?