Sometimes when I think
I feel like I can touch the world
Understand the flux of energy
The musing of the smallest flies
And stand in the quiet agelessness
Of forest green
Like some passenger song hopefully forlorn
Swinging the beetle rhyme back  and forth to understand truly what they meant to express

But other days
My idealism and enduring belief
Falters
Like equations in the sky I can no longer read
Symbols popping into existence
Meant only to discombobulate
Towards the doubt
Of my own self
Retching the violent swaying
Of the ground beneath my feet

Sometimes I feel lost
Wandering out to sea