The Question

A poem about life's greatest question.

A shine high in the trees,
drives me onwards just like a northbound breeze,
in this hellish forest forever fleeing when I grow near,
it is my entire reason for being here

I caught first sight from within my barn
and at once I knew it was that thing about which all men yarn.
Most people long to feel it but fail to touch,
personally I worry it exists… not so much.

And like the trees I hope life is not a labyrinth but instead a maze,
one with paths that I can map throughout my days,
and although roots do tangle like hunter’s traps about my feet,
towards the beacon of light I never do, and nor should you, ever stop my beat.

Finally I reach the tree that from its tip emanates the light,
to reach it I would be forced to assail this height,
and so began my climb:
the unravelling of my time.

The bark was rough and burnt my hands to cinders,
so on I pushed but now without my fingers,
for sometimes we burn and break our soul
yet to me somehow the pain has always been worth my goal

When then I do arise above the leafen peak
the face I do have staring back at me reminds me life is bleak.
An owl carved by man that was never worth my flight,
a statue, made of blue-silver gold, not containing supernatural light.

Despite all lack of faith I am enraged to say the least
so I strike out at the false idol to see my wroth released.
But like so many I do stumble I do fall
and my head hits hard on a sycamore branch, if only I were a little less tall.

The pain and blood, together, flash life before my eyes,
reminding me that I do not value things high up in the skies.
Instead worth is with and around us on the ground
and although we all are different, do not worry, one day yours’ will be found.

Now while I fall towards the earthen floor,
with life a room and death the only door,
forever we are united in love
if only in and by my above.


For that is all I need and it is all we hold,
it stays inside for none to see, and it keeps me from the cold.
See I require no light above because all I need is all I feel
and now the answer to The Question is simply: “what is real”.

Reviews

[Confuser]

The question: Wow, what a great poem, and you have pulled me in with many questions, forced me to think, made me stop and re-read use my rusty brain again, still loving every word. I found myself at one point thinking of the Ca. redword that is 30 stories tall; looking down upon the earth and the view phenomenal, but seeing just how tiny I am in the scheme of things. Your descriptions are lovely. This is a wonderful poem. I love it and will put it in my library to re-read again. You have a lot of talent, I do hope you realize and I will continue to ponder "what is real." Thank you for an amazing piece of work. Quite inspirational. Thank you.

[bee]

Love the flow that is present in the poem. Emotions are clearly seen and I can connect with them.