Wondering

butterfly

 

I do not know what I do not know.

Unknowned is to be un-owned, unpossessed,

A state distressed in doubt of no way out.

We live in probabilities of connection,

Faint dendritic spider webs to weave

Networks to capture possibility

Which, to large extent remains

Empty, unfulfilled, spun

Unrewarded while

The golden dust of promise

Drifts, immune to capture,

Glittering in some wild joy

That treasures the immense unattainable,

But yet, but yet displays

Promises of, perhaps,

Other ways.

 

 

 

 

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