You don’t know the answer
Yet you search like a little one
Maybe there isn’t a reason for this
Or maybe the answer is in the question
And blindly you work your mind to the bone
How many hands get torn crawling to the endless phenomena?
Learn to collect the questions,
And save them for the stars and left over thoughts
How a hand and mind
Working together
Can go so far in the wrong direction
Let go of your thoughtful burdens and injuries.
So you have a lot of answers
To unasked questions
But maybe the details are less important
When you stop waiting with baited breath.
Tallying something that can’t be tallied
Is more futile than you think.
Because after all, calculating the impossible,
Is worth it’s wages only on masturbatory accounts.
