We look for truth in limitless heavens,
Answers, though, are hidden where silence reigns.
We hear less the more we yell.
The truest voice whispers clearly and softly.
The world is boisterous, yet hearts are still,
Wanting anything more than just sheer will.
Every anguish, every loss, every passing opportunity,
Transforms into a stage in the odd dance of life.
We pursue the light, we despise the evening,
Both, though, have to come together to define our view.
The storm that fractures us redefines us,
The cracks let covert light to come through.
The point might be not to know.
Simply read, rise, and develop, though.
For life is not a test to pass,
The mirror is the one, not the glass.
Shalom
Still Me