I’ve done it again – wandered abruptly into
or out of topic like the summer wanders out of season
and my 39th year wandered into difficulty
and scarcity and a serious kind of non-fun.
Is it always in the rearview that we find the truth?
Is it a different kind of thing we find on the day,
in the face plastered to the glass right here of things?
Is truth found or created? Can it be conserved?
Is there a finite trove of understanding that we are slowly
emptying?
Are we Sissyphus with the gum ball machines
of our minds emptying out the older candy to make room
for the new?
Are we doing it right now, or will it happen only later – like regret
or the sudden realization of an overdue adulthood
that we do not yet understand?