Questionable Horizons. Poem by Bill Mitton

How should it be I speak
and yet say nothing
When sun, and sky and sea
can say so much.
Why should it be my voice
booms in shallowness
When mind and heart together
sing so readily in tune.
Where are my darling buds of May,
my sparkling ice of winter
I know the path, I see the door,
but the key eludes me.

What worth my eyes, when I see nothing
save the sparkle of false baubles.
when all around precious stones
are trodden underfoot.
Why does my footfall echo
into the emptiness?
And not the measured
tread of reason.
Where are my summer birdsongs
Winter’s song of twisting ice
I know the path, I see the door
But the verse eludes me.

Who am I to speak and sing of love,
to plead for peace in all things
yet to be at war within myself
entrenched inside my soul.
Where is the ache of hatred
when love holds a greater pain
How can I share my journey
I do not know it’s end.
Where are my snowclad mountains
My warming summer rain
I know the path, I see the door
But all answers elude me.