I Don't Know

By Jos Sinnott

Why did I pick up my phone and look at it? 

I've forgotten

Some are so forthright and sure,

angry and activated

A grand show is unfolding before me,

I don't know what role to play

That sweet, fragrant glade seems distant

I struggle to recall the dancing dappled light,

the crumble of soil in my hands

“Whither has fled the visionary gleam,

where is it now, the glory and the dream?”

The voices of my elders, the voices of the eternals, 

are barely audible

Often I lose sight of everything 

and blame the world around me

Am I calling into an abyss?

Or can I rekindle what was lost?

Can I search in the dwindling ashes,

among the shards and fragments,

for some smoldering embers?

Can I wearily stoop down and patiently rebuild

Carefully now, don’t rush

Can I patiently rebuild the burning majesty of a life well-lived,

a life of risk, pain and vitality?

Can I survive this world of luminous distractions and artifices?

Can I remember why I came here?

Jos Sinnott is an aspiring writer and has been writing for much of his adult life. He tends to write creative essays and poetry, and his essays are usually a weaving of philosophy, nature writing and mysticism. He lives in Bristol, in the UK.