Where to next my love?
The journey that began before
our time...
The hope of meaning before
the sunset,
Of light before the dawn,
Of peace before the dark.
And does knowing really matter?
I'm not sure I want to know.
It is so much slower now,
To capture light before the
dusk,
Yet time is shorter between
the rising and setting,
Coming often without warning
As if to mock my effort.
Is indifference my only answer?
I'm not sure I want to know.
pwd