But where and when and why?
You ask me these questions
I have no easy answers,
For I am with you
On this quest.
Of them have perished,
As heroes tend to do,
When in peril.
We flip the Dummies Guide to Quests
Looking for our answers among notes in the margins,
Wriggly red arrows between lines,
Cryptic doodles inspired by hasty telephone calls
And the random numbers found
On billboards and odometers.
Nothing but confusion.
It lacks cohesion.
We wander the labyrinth of words on words
Paper-cutting our dirty fingers in our haste,
As page leads to page leads to blurbs and titles
And the thin-thinner-thick-thin-thinnest bar code
Starts looking ominous with its thirteen unlucky digits
Prefaced by four letters,
Perhaps a clue resides in the abbreviation?
I is for the intelligence needed to complete the quest.
S is for the simplicity of the answers.
B is for the beauty of riddles within riddles.
N is for the nagging feeling this is all in vain!
Thus we restart, re-begin,
On page one, chapter one, opening paragraph,
Until it is with wrinkled skin and gray hair
We raise our eyes to the blurred sky
And say with wonder in our feeble hearts,
“We quest for something, anything,
For nothing makes life more worth living
Than having a purpose, a goal.
Everything else is meaningless drool
Out of the mouths of babes and mad fools.”