So many stares
Into the ceiling
Too many paces
Across the floor

A solemn quest
The less of living
To pains of life
We close the door

So many thoughts
Without thinking
Alas thinking
A twist of fate

A ball and chain
Ever swinging
Upon us falls
Its heavy weight

When will life
Be a friend
When will friends
Be a life

Often truth
The double edge
Deeply cutting
Like a knife

Why always
Must we suffer
How does suffering
Make us strong

Fists of steel
Hearts of stone
Within the crowd
We are alone

To the world
An open doorway
In its frame
A stranger stands

So many answers
In his eyes
Too many questions
In our hands
Copyright © 2004 Delbert H. Rhodes

2 thoughts on “Too Many Questions

  1. Thank you dear Lady. I write as it comes, and whenever it comes, it flows thoughtlessly. I cannot “consciously” write; but write passionately. I never fear presenting truth, I consider me to be an “honest” writer. Without honesty/truth the written word suffers.

    Actually: I credit my words as given by “The Mother.” She permits me beautiful words, I am simply a vessel.

    Again, Terry, Thank You.

    Del

  2. When I read this, I didn’t just see words, I envisioned a person – one who has many life questions that have gone unanswered – as most will. You write with such feeling that one should hold your work within their hands while reading. You write from your soul, and that is what makes your work worth a lot to many.

    Terry

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