There are questions
(alway, there are questions)
that live and loom not in unanswerable,
(lest one walk the world with purposefully closed, self-blinded eye),
but in twilight shadows barely beyond
the brilliant daylight of ready resolution;
where shapes, hints of solutions are beheld,
arising, breaking the distant rim of the horizon of consciousness
and, there appearing,
demanding the act, the art of thought to respond to the challenge:
“Darest thou, answer!”
Hybrid palm frond-lily petaled death-life existential inquiries…
(now, at each moment by each moment of unceasing contemplation)
is my identity?
(as the world [and my life in it] evolves)
is my destiny?
(when, at death, my length of days no more run,
when my reason’s final, fleeting emanation is spun)
will be my legacy?