Who Can Know?
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
It seems that God (or gods) goes moving through
The dawn invaded by exhaustion in
The night. The hormone tentacles construe
The twilight made of everything but sin
To be the revelation of the youth
Of gods themselves. Eternity in time
Is seen, eternally unknown. That truth
Is truth remains unknowable. This chime
Sounds silently, the color of the dawn,
And says, in mystic soundlessness that life,
Unknowable in meaning, is God’s yawn.
This masked confusion fends off logic’s strife.
..All questions vanish. Clarity appears
….Since life and mystery are equal peers.