Don’t ask me these questions.
What makes you think I know the answers?
Me, who has stopped looking for them
ages ago.
They are salt and pepper on an all too
personal wound.
The only answer you will hear my utter
is I don’t
know which answers everything else
but nothing that you don’t want
to know
is a powerful thing.
Opening doors which lead to trapdoors,
the path of endless hallways
filled with screaming voices,
all of them your own
but none familiar
leaving you dazed and bruised
lying in front of more doors
This is what knowledge does to you
to know
is to enter into an initiation
that may almost kill you
and will if you are not strong enough
For now I will remain with
I don’t know
Uttering my only answer
as I build the strength to
face the doors again.
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