
This is all I know.
First, you come.
Then, you go.
This is all.
I know.
I know.
It is all I can know.
Yet something shows
from hidden places
up and below.
Something unbidden
that hints at more, longer;
that feels better, stronger.
Where does more come from?
Where does more go?
Where did I come from?
Where shall I go?
It is never enough
this life that I know.
This is all?
Can this be so?
I want to know.
I want to know.
I want to know.