Wander (Notevember 2023, #11)

When everything points in my direction –
all the clues and all the signs –
and reality is misaligned
with my messy mind,
What, then, do I question?
The world around me?
Unfathomably old, constantly new,
seemingly steady, clearly askew,
a pendulum between equinoxes
autumnal, vernal,
wandering eternal.
Or my mind?
Wandering also, full peripatetic,
drawn to both the greatly cosmic
and the vainly cosmetic,
both equally magnetic
but at different times.
What to do when my compass fails me?
When each moral dilemma that ails me
has multiple answers –
none of them good, or worse,
none of them evil.
Maybe, since all roads lead to Rome,
as they say,
all roads must also lead away.
So if everything points towards me,
an outward onslaught,
a battery of information,
I can lose myself inside –
or choose to direct my strides
against the current,
electrified.