When Isn'T the Question To Ask

WHEN ISN'T THE QUESTION TO ASK When isn't the question to ask. You will find no answer to satisfy The curious mind or anxious heart, You can look all you want into the middle distance But you will see nothing emerge Out of the perfect darkness Which seems to mock you In the vain attempt at seeking To be justified for who you want to be. No, you are still the way you always were, Nothing changes - even an iota, And all.this time you never once Questioned your rightful existence To discover if there was another path To serene enlightenment As you sit cross-legged, waiting for a sign, Blank as a pristine sheet, Waving in the unforgiving breeze. When isn't the question to ask? You've slipped away from the shore line Without realising you can't hold On to anything in the boat Which carries you to your destination, Creaking its wobbly passage through The lapping waters of an ancient river. The now has broken your time Into tiny unseen fragments of doubt, And seeps into a conscious stream, Where the when becomes a seamless eternity.