i am tired of questions <br />all of them <br />too familiar and all <br />with ready <br />homemade answers <br /> <br />canned questions <br />and answers <br />in one book <br />scanned for years <br />and you all know them <br /> <br />canned laughter <br />canned faces <br /> <br />canned souls <br />canned and caned and chained <br />bones <br /> <br />they rattle and they shake <br />and roll <br /> <br />i have no answers. <br />i am throwing all these questions away. <br /> <br />i live everyday. i look at the trees <br />and the forests. <br /> <br />i simply live. Now. <br />i have no more questions. <br /> <br />neither will i demand <br />any answer from you. <br /> <br />go, go, find yourself. <br />i stay here wanting to find nothing at all. <br /> <br />i guess, after my 48 years <br />there is this truth <br />that i find: there is nothing <br /> <br />nothing to find <br />nothing to expect <br /> <br />nowhere to go <br />it is just this and this and this. <br /> <br />the one that i have in my hand <br />the one that i keep on holding <br />i enclose it and keep it warm <br />and alive <br /> <br />and you do not even care <br />this is it: me, myself, and I<br /><br />RIC S. BASTASA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/questions-130/
