These questions that defined us


The day writes itself
And withers for what?
The lecture of the beautiful tomorrow

O’ thou present beloved
With the hem of planets
And the scent of roses

And these passing minutes
As delicate as my awareness
As ornamental as is my

Personal perception, all these
Frames of references
Bright like the quantum

Signature of pure energy
The day writes itself
And changes for whom?

We are but observers or actors
Or some part of the category
Of believers, that we are

Not the same people as yesterday
Somehow our questions differ
And what fulfills us embroiders

Its own meaning in our
Evolving tapestry of experience.

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