Whirlwind

There’s a question
that never gets
An answer for me
and all the time
it roams in my thoughts:

from where does love come
and where is the place
where it goes?

It’s as if every time
I am at the same place
and somehow
have to stay behind alone.

Around and around
and I am lost
at places
where my love was once

and nothing keeps love with me
and life
takes its own way
even in my humility

and who can ever
get the answer
without being cynical.

Even when I see
magic in the eyes
of someone new
maybe there is later

no answers to be found
and my life
is being devoured
by the whirlwind.

[Reference: Wie is die swerwer by Gert Strydom]

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!