Oh, no!What shall I do?
Where do I dig for words?
What words grow where?
Not the hot house library!
Where is that wild garden?
Growing wilder words?
How shall I find them?
How shall they be gathered?
I have no basket, no wheelbarrow, no pockets for anything....
I shall go there, anyway,
Just to see if I can find the place,
And if I do, what then?
Sit down and stare bewildered?
Or let myself be plucked?
All questions, again?
No, not those questions....
Just the ones that count!
I remember one thing:
In that garden, there are no questions,
Only exclamations!
I remember now,
That is why we go there....
...and I am gone.
- Michael Warren Eliseuson
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