Shadow and Light

And so the summer shimmers in front of me
the 37th year and still I search.
What lies beyond the day?
The shadow and the light,
the delicate brush strokes of the watchmaker?
Maybe the happy accident of science?
They say the hands are the first thing to age
mine are turning, from young manhood to maturity
and still…
and still….I have found no rest.
The thumping, whirring cacophony that is my brain
speeds up, faster and faster,
day by day, and inwards to the blanket of night.
It thrums. It never stops.
What hands turned these thoughts?
This soul?

The soul I hid, not because of cynicism
but rather because others might laugh at my hope.
A hope that burns with expectation
that around every corner is a possibility
and in everyone we meet, we confront the other
but maybe…just maybe in the right conditions we find love.
That is the hope that never dies
I name it now…yet I do not have it…
but I hope and hope again.
I am asking God for an answer…
I am asking…
I am asking…
I am…
…asking.

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