Old questions crazy pauses no answers back
a few ways it could be roar in ominous winds
cries sound like an invitation to a locked door
the mad shouting their executions of purpose
while the hallowed desire of our knowledge
founders on unseen rocks beneath the surface
to what end is it pursued questions and men
mirrors that merely reflect reflecting tire us
of reflection of the eternal shine of others
to what end is help our last effort these tears
the hands that reached in to save now pulled in
so that now we are suddenly in great danger
curating the fall into big tropical trouble
but I only meant to help goes the old refrain
played loudly to whoever looked most helpless
forget the wreckage now the oil upon the water
the broken life-boat we watch it all slowly go down
and then begin another hard swim in another direction.
© 2016 Rob Schackne
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