tridd forums

Under the pale moon of a starless night I find myself lost in thoughts of life.
Wondering again as I oft times do about God and nature and getting a clue.
Where are we headed?
What is the point?
Is there anyone who knows me but me?
Do I even know who I am deep inside?
If so why do I disagree?
From one day to the next my thought proses changes.
From one second to the next my plan rearranges.
The thought and the memories and the plans and the dreams
And the fact that things are rarely as they seem.
A clueless animal who walks this barren land.
Another know it all human who doesn't truly understand.
Under the pale moon of a starless night I find myself lost in thoughts of life.

Pale moon-- starless night--no illumination for your thought processes--seem dark and confused--vacillating --who really knows anything--should we even bother to care? All that energy spent in the futility of even asking these questions--oh and the angst they bring and bring and bring again... the deepest darkest questions in the universe i'm afraid will never be answered here. Really enjoyed the poem--Thanks, Steve--may your mind be put to rest as you have gotten this off your chest. Peace--Love--and Prayers--Jeanne

I know this feeling all too well. (Great piece, by the way.)

Personally, I like to think I'm learning to embrace even this "unkowing" as part of the grand adventure.

Did you just recently write this one, or is it from the "archives?"

In any case, thanks for sharing!

I actually wrote it on line as I was sitting at my desk..I pulled it out of the thin air...thank you for reading it and responding....

Hi Steve friend,

The air was certainly not as thin as you suggest--seems to have been filled with the stars absent in the sky & you put them in the pome. I find myself in Troy's state most of the time now. We always use the sun as the symbol of God, truth, wisdom. But you have, I think, got the symbol right--the moon. The sun blinds the physical & the inner eye, except in small doses. We live out the changes, rearrangements, cluelessness in the pale light of the moon--not so bright, not so penetrating, cooler, but more what life is really about perhaps, changing & changed, like the waxing and waning the the moon models. Robert the Bruce's heart is buried in the ruined abbey of Melrose, Scotland, & Sir Walter Scott remarked the sheer beauty & joy of "seening Melrose in the pale moonlight," ironically not in the sunlight. Thanks for another moving pome, Steve friend.

Cheers, love, joy, peace, & slainte,

Tam/Tom

Tam/Tom, I find it a wee bit irritating that your responses to my poetry are more poetic than the poems themselves...bravo, my most adored scholar and teacher of life, peace and love and slainte, Steve;)