I would like to say
That there have been moments,
Brief and fleeting moments,
In which I felt
Shall I say confused
About what life means…
But I can’t say
That there were only moments.
Unless I say
That there have been moments
Where I have felt certain.
There were times when
Without Doubt
I felt purpose and meaning
In the drudgery of life.
When I knew.
What’s funny still
Is that I can’t even say
What it is
That I knew
In those moments.
And then I wonder
If that isn’t more the point
Than we’ve all been figuring.
Perhaps
Just maybe
In a small way
Wanting to know
Is more important
Than knowing anything.
Maybe
Maybe the more we know
About all this stuff
That we feel we have to know about stuff
Is actually the stuff
We should be looking past.
It would be nice
If maybe this confusion
Was worth a little more
Than I think it is.
