again tonight

why 

did 

no one 

ever tell me 

there was such 

wholeness 

in not knowing?

rightness 

is exhausting 

when even

the wildflowers 

bloom 

without  

rationalizing 

it  

arguing 

to be 

not wrong

–or more right  

seems tiresome 

when the 

brook 

is trickling 

again tonight

certainty 

seems foolish  

when there’s 

grass 

courageous 

enough 

to grow

despite 

cement 

sidewalks.

I’d rather 

be wrong 

and 

whole 

than right 

and 

less than 

and may 

that always 

be so.