Where Is The Answer Supposed Poem by Michael Timothy Rose

Where is the answer
Supposed

To be blown in the wind?

I wait by my doorstep, read
And dawdle by chimes,
But I never hear them ring
And resound the silent
Truth.

The truth he scours
The Earth for,
And only finds in the soil
When it is dry,
And in sea salt
By no water,
Yet it is always in fire that he finds the truth-
And rotting and sizzling flesh
Scorched answers
Flooded in mistruths
because
there is no answer. Not-
For him. No wind.
But dust,
But books,
But waiting chimes.
Pain.