We are all born with questions, at first unformed and shouted
to the confusion and then, slowly at first, then like
a spring from our minds, words come.
The words frame the questions
and let them be posed —
at first to the others
who share our
form and
nature
and
have
all the
answers
we need for
a short while, and
then the sky beguiles
us with mysteries spoken
through silence and we listen
and forge more words to cover
the silence and stare into the dark
sky and beseech it with our words
to tell us more, to fill dark never-
resting hunger for knowledge
of the beginning and the end
of the path most worthy of
our numbered steps.