Lost Certainty
I miss the certainty
Of knowing the way the world works,
Of consulting a book for the answers,
And never questioning what I found.
Then, when my world was new,
I would pray nightly, reciting names
Of friends and relatives
And tacking on numerous postscripts
For each forgotten cousin.
I miss being sure of the way of the universe,
But even though my awakening was rude,
To go back to a comforting and mindless sleep
Is impossible, for in the morning of my consciousness
My mind has wandered,
And developed a will of its own.
[Hey… you know the drill, right? All reviews are loved and cherished like Ewan McGregor would be loved and cherished if he was but a little younger and lived next door to me, but I'd like it if you think about what you're going to say before you say it, okay? Peace, as always.
---Elizabät]