It’s so quiet today—don’t know what to say.
The uncertainty of the uncertainty and then the uncertainty.

Is the road we take imagined or already given?

Are we inventing our lives as we live them?
Why do we ask questions no one can answer?

Have we finally found a groove, you and I?
A modus vivendi that’s livable for both of us?

Don’t you hate a poem that’s full of questions?
Shouldn’t I try to answer some of them somehow?