The flower is in bloom even at night when it cannot be seen.
The owl hunts, whether the moon is full or new.
Questions rage as the trash piles high.
Secrets and lies, lies and secrets.
What is the truth, who really knows?
This way or that way, is either the path?
A heart full of yearning, a mind full of logic.
Whose logic is it? From where did it come?
From when did it come?
Listening for the answer to come in the wind.
Do you feel it? It’s so close, even at the door.
Muddy waters blind, but blue seas are deep.
The answers lie beneath.
Scratching and yearning, striving for what?
Go to the depths and you drown.
Where are the answers?
Where is the truth?