Faith is now quite uncertain. I'm no longer acting-as-if.
Friday, February 22, 2008
I Know Not
What is my life to be? I know not. I know not. And will I cross the sea? I know not. I know not. And will you stay with me? I know not. I know not. Alas, I see! I see! I know not what my life shall be.
But we all want to know, do we not, Grandmère? Thank you for sharing this beautiful poem on a morning when I am sitting here pondering some of these very questions.
Paul, since I have only five small poems to my name, I will likely revisit them until you are all bored silly with them. During a period of several months in 2007, the poetry muse visited, and she has not returned since. :o(
But we all want to know, do we not, Grandmère?
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing this beautiful poem on a morning when I am sitting here pondering some of these very questions.
Boocat, we do persist in wanting to know, although we know that we can't know. Thanks for your kind words.
ReplyDeleteThese are good reminders, during Lent, of our finitude. And that we need to accept it.
ReplyDeleteAbrazos, abuelita.
Paul, since I have only five small poems to my name, I will likely revisit them until you are all bored silly with them. During a period of several months in 2007, the poetry muse visited, and she has not returned since. :o(
ReplyDeleteThanks for the hugs and kind words.