WHAT OF IT
By Eolake Stobblehouse
What of it?
I asked of the sky
What of it?
Are we ever to wonder
and rage impotently
at the horizons of the unknowable
Teasing forth the wisdom of the hazy ages
only to spill our life's blood
on the churning aeons of the future
Or will we some day triumph
cutting a swath through the mist
with potent razors of the mind
To find the truths of the spirits eternal
in many-colored splendor
spread before our visage
However this may be
I know this and this only
We shall ever continue trying