Untrammeled

Human dreams,
like the stars
in a dark sky,
hang there burning...
beyond reach.
Perhaps, already long gone.
We are want to ask of life,
Why?
But life does not answer.
Perhaps, it has no ears;
or no voice.
Perhaps, we are the
voice.
Perhaps, we
are not listening.
Tis the one true condition;
to be human is to understand,
not everything is obtainable...
Alone.

This may just be the only thing
that surprises God.
To be human,
is to fail... often.
Which ofcourse means,
that we keep trying.

One wonders...
Why?

poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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