Mysterious Muse

Wonder

Such a concept that escapes me because I am not a child, far from a child. replaced instead by a sense of dread. The world no longer inspires me. I see no wishes in the dark.

When I grasp a clump of dirt I do not ponder whats it’s for. The tiny beings that live within. Most likely crawling onto my skin. I see it for what it is supposed to be. A patch of dirt, no mystery.

I am an adult, nothing childish within, but if I was to bend with a tiny friend and search the innocence that they see. I think, just a bit, that a part of me might

just

wonder

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.