Answers

Words fly on a breeze of delight

Open thoughts, a broken-string kite

Soars higher, falls lower, drifts out of sight

As the old man wonders aloud…

“How far is the edge of the known?

Have we planted a seed?

Have we properly sown?

The fields of knowledge, progression ever so slow,

When we die is it to heaven we go?”

Says the old man to his audience…

“Learn from life what you consider gold.

Never believe everything your told

Without first proving its existence alone,

And then realize it’s never quite so.”

Whispers the old man as he closed his eyes.

We waited. We listened.

The silence grew.

We watched him carefully

When we knew.

The old man has found his answers.

~

DBrown Fisher

© May 1992