Like leaves leave,
Thursday evening, left wondering.
The next me.
Almost evening, day is wondering.
Why does anything exist?
Why does anything happen?
Songs sing silently, inside of me.
Space falls from the sky all the time.
Why is it that some words rhyme?
Why is it I can’t find my line?
These feelings real?
They’re melted steel
and ‘why’ won’t make any sense,
so there are never any answers.
Please just be.
Burn the evening. Hear wondering.
Speak to me,
mountain evening. No wondering.
My knees, worn from all the crawls
and I know nothing at all.
Tell me what anything means.
Please.
Please tell me anything at all.
All I know is I know nothing at all.
this is your life chuck johnson 