In response to a post of David Whyte, the prominent poet:



Many parts we are

in the beauty and mystery

of life in its various manifestations -

of what are we shaped in?

Do we understand as such?


There's the coming-together

the sharing and then the departing

the tears and the laughter

yet the doubt, the lacuna

the mental aridity

the human angst and rub


we are left sadly with

the inadequacy of words

questions unanswered:

there's not a flicker

in this impenetrable dark