Another Random Poem From The Past

(I thought I'd better post a note of explanation. My word-ability has currently gone off on vacation somewhere and has not seen fit to inform me of its whereabouts. So, I've gone digging through my files for offerings previously written. I'm not following any protocol in the selection process, just riffling through looking for something to start wiggling and raising its hand: "Me! Pick me!")

Until What?

 

Seeking to find

the thing I thought I sought—

Was what I thought

Only the thing I found?

 

Or better yet

the seeking thing I’m finding—

Will what I think

stay balanced at the brink?

 

And better still

It all might simply be the was of will—

The beginning of the end; the ending of before.

Was it will that ended thought

and un-found the very thing I sought?

 

Was it the is of was, or the then of this—

that sat down hard and squashed the thought

which stained the pretty zafu that I bought?

 

I don’t know, but here’s the deal:

Sought or seeking; found or finding—

It’s always only never really real.