In my youth
I am now
and I know not where I go.
What will be,
what should be,
I surely do not know.
And how blessedly, I am glad
to lay idle in my incertitude.
What an alluring conundrum
to know not if I am a fool;
What a grief would it be,
to be wiser than you.
the wise are a lonesome lot
for there are but a few.
It certainly would be a grief,
to be alone in certitude.