Who?

An owl flies over,
Again, my love, screeching, “Who?”
Do you have the question’s answers?
Sometimes
I do, others – the illusions, there
Is nothing to say;
I fail.
Knowing myself –
My soul resembles all the books
In all the libraries;
Without taking them, one by one,
Reading every page
The stories grow dusty, old,
The language begins to fade –
Knowledge withers; it never
Unfolds.
I believed when youth bloomed,
By now, I would know myself;
Exposed by this uncanny fowl
I recognize I have not grasped
Tools needed to understand life,
Even less, who I am – only –
Endless
Queries, abysmally pointless.
Every person posed similarly
An interview to take some time,
A chance of investing themselves with,
“Who?”
At present, I know why
I wish, “Who?”
To better myself, know the whole of me,
Never forgetting how I love you.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan