Fear of existence
By Parson Thru
have I said too much?
Felt more deeply than I should?
Walked naively through the gossamer thread
where danced the morning sun?
From the fathoms of her eyes
comes the reply:
Not yet, but be mindful where you tread.
She rotates the world,
inquisitive and thoughtful,
tracing complex diagrams in sand.
In this vastness, we are nothing,
yet it’s defined through our need to understand.
I want to speak,
but watch the sunlight playing in her hair instead.