In Me There Is So Much Unknown Poem by Peter S. Quinn

In me there is so much unknown,
The contrasting moods of nature;
The footsteps into pasture grown,
All the departures and mature.
The saddest things in the weather,
A working through a Gordian knot;
Everything that's worse or better,
The growth of life and the rot.
In me there are stories untold,
And pleasures I in feelings find;
A gasp of breath I can not hold,
Seeing of lights where I am blind.
The stepwise walking down a lane,
And seeing how autumn comes;
The strain of anguishing my pain,
I feel and to me in accords strums.
In me there is this knowing,
That nothing can be handled alone;
For each notice is then going,
To turn out to be a stepping stone.