Answering Questions 3

I see the reflection
Of a face in the window,
The face of a young man.
Does he know what lies before him?
Here are his pens,
There are his books,
All together on the table,
The cruel jigsaw of paper
And ink and information.

But can he see what is to come?
He thinks he can.
He thinks he knows it all,
The patterns and tricks, practices and techniques.
There’s a sudden glimmer in his eyes,
A tired glint of something special
That makes him reach for
One of the pens.

But still he is not sure.
How can he be sure when
Nothing in his life is certain?
He thinks,
But he just doesn’t know
Because knowledge is terrifying
And he hates feeling scared.

And so he continues to stare
At his own reflections,
The transparent image of meditation,
To keep his mind from
Wondering back to that reality
Where the only constant is never knowing enough.


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