My questions lead me in and beyond myself.
Like roots in the ground, they pull me down to what was
And like buds on a tree, they remind me of what’s in front of me
In bloom and changing
And grounded as an old tree trunk.
Will my questions outlive my past?
Will my present thrive with my questions?
One can never tell
But one can always ask.
Praise to the G-d who knows and who doesn’t
And the People who flourish in wonder.