Doubt may serve the quiet one
who reads the deepest tomes
that languish in the hallowed halls
where learned men are known
the one without a master
may seek mastery, of the self -
scanning ancient leather bindings
brooding darksome
on the shelves.
He may comb the beach for pearls
and **** the oysters in the sea
or dive beneath the tide
to pry them open
with his teeth.
he may doubtless have to surface
from his labors in the deep
with nothing more than silt
as fine as motes of dust
to keep.
or treasures that contain the whole
his grain of doubt
conceived -
as lesser to the sum he knew
but now he cannot
see.

This one may surpass us all
and leave us to the beach.

Or scrawl the sort of question
that an answer
only dreamed.