Too often my search for meaning
discourages rather than fuels me.
I’m too focused on theme to enjoy novels
and too focused on purpose to enjoy life –
but for those rare moments when the world shrinks
and exists only in my arms or the walls of my home,
babbling, exploring, and grinning up at me.
Then I’m no longer searching,
either because I’m distracted or
because I am reminded.
Tag Archives: purpose of life
Rowing
I pull these oars to stay afloat
And pray each day the wind will blow
But this blue bird’s day does dash my hopes.
I know that I would sink my boat
If ever I should cease to row
But when it seems that I should slow,
My arms grow stronger with every stroke.
My arms grow stronger with every stroke,
An I am better for rowing this boat.
I write
to chase away the riddle
that is not ever solved
save by the grave itself,
to which that place alone
retains the only answer.