Thought Poem by Elbert Matt Loubser

Brisk dawn; the winter's end
Beneath the hilltop-tree guide

Where nothing passes their own
Where my thoughts can frolic, bide time

The questions unravel;
once murky depths
not known

Are they: Where do I reach from?
Where do I reach?
What precedes me?
What will precede?

The marks end when times end
A blossom finds its way to an end
Brushes my cheek upon its journey down

My hope rises to their answers: Who am I to become?
Who am I?

Near the answers to silence;
A swallow swings past
Oblivious to my aquiline discourse;
Like its chaotic flightpath
And untethered thoughts

I conclude mere mists
What does it matter? and mirth
It is hard to think
My solution another question's birth.