There is a question at the center
From which all this emanates
The story of this mark
is what these lines are connecting.
Sticks and stones of habit and bones
are woven under careful roofs thatched.
The chicken came first
because the scheme of the egg
had not yet been hatched.
The three streams converging are quite a map,
diagram upon diagram of your ship and the treacherous landscape.
A much fussed over plan spelling out the means to escape
to a question mark.
Only sheer speculation to give it shape.
Destination unknown.
Is this carrot on a string sufficient bait?
I pursue and at times lash out
hungry and enslaved by fate
But that’s really not me,
just this body on mother earth
Hurling through space.
I am the question and the mark
operating this computer that animates.
I may not know exactly what I am
but I do know I must return home to consummate.
So I embrace living for the mysterious
punctuation at the end of the sentence.
Happy to contemplate…