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Starry Night

I know who I am. I love myself. I love others. Others, do love me. Then why does it so often feel as no one does? Why is this journey often so lonely? Do we ever really know anyone? With only disjointed moments of real connection in this modern life - A bunch of nomads huddled around their fire. Do we even really know ourselves? Like dust in the wind, our plans and whims come and go. Are those what make us who we are? I certainly hope not. If life were a mosaic of sorrow and joy, why does the sorrow seem to last longer? Why does it seem to feel the more real? Why does it swallow the canvas like darkness in a starry, starry night? - Maybe to make the slivers of joy shine all the brighter, says the wiseman. Maybe. But what do I know? What does he know? No one of this world has those answers. So I trust. Because I don't know what else to do.

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David Kavanagh

Date: 12/29/2020 2:52:00 AM

I guess the only thing we can be sure of, is that we exist, we simply have to be here, if not there would be nothing, like before you where born, we only know about the past, by being alive now, everything beyond that is mere speculation, very deep though provoking poem Jonathan, thanks for sharing, cheers David

David Kavanagh
Date: 2/16/2021 1:43:00 PM

I understand Jonathan, its some journey, and I can fully relate to the questions your asking in your poem, good luck on your search

Jonathan Kieller
Date: 1/5/2021 9:00:00 PM

Thank you David! I appreciate your thoughts! It is meant as an ode to Jewish wisdom literature and the journey I have been on the last couple of years. Cheers!