While contemplating the tumbling pile of books
Surrounding the corner where I sleep,
I look inside for the source of greed
That must surely be a name for my obsession.

For what do I search?
Will the quest never end?
Will my thirst ever be slaked, in full, without returning?

The titles, the subjects of my books tell me of my obsession:
the mysterious, the hidden,
the roots of things, of thoughts and concepts,
evidence of the connectedness of all things;
the patterns that govern my life and others';
advice from sages on how to "See", how to "Be;"
to observe how their "seeing" and "being" compares with others'.

Yes, to observe.

I am the observer, the needer-to-know,
For a purpose that seems ever closer to being known.

But, resigned certainty grows that this knowledge
Approaches, nearer, nearer
But never to to be reached, until --

The End

01/02/2002

Posted on 01/02/2002
Copyright © 2024 Ronald A Pavellas