There’s so much that I don’t understand
The more I think
The more I find
The world is a continuous question getting bigger
The mysteries of old were but a precursor
to all that was to come
But it wasn’t to come
It was always there
We didn’t know what we didn’t know

Then there’s people who
are a mystery all of their own
I watch often aghast
Searching myself for some connection
To what is thought
To what is done
And I find nothing
No context for understanding
Or a place of contact
Do I have grounds to feel I’m incomplete?

Is my capacity to seek for self
To strive as if my fellows were but stepping stones
With compassion and kindness seen as sins
Bound for the confessional?
”Forgive me Father for I have sinned”
“Your penance son,
Say three Hail Mary’s and speak badly of four people”
I do not understand
I’m like a schoolboy in a University
When the knowledge of such behaviour
Is required

Thank God,
There’s peace in my tainted innocence