When what once flamed bright

sputters and dies, the struggle begins.

With growing urgency we search.

Where are those matches, maps,

and memories that might bring warmth or light?

When none can be found, the whys appear

(no, not that wise, but the other one), 

the why me, why here, why now.

With chilling coolness the Universe asks,

“Why not?”

And thus we begin the long trek

through the murky middle

where the only certainty 

is that we’re here, as we are, right now.


This entry was posted in poetry.

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