Stories, Flotsam and Ghosts

Do not ask me what I feel
or what I think
unless you are prepared
to sort through
the case of curiosities
that is my mind.

I have no direct answers,
no clear path.
My thoughts are littered
with stories,
flotsam
and ghosts,

always on display,
hard to sort through
without the patience to find the treasure
knowing there is no map,
only wreckage.

About this poem

I can rarely answer anything without a story, a history lesson or some other meandering background. It’s probably kind of maddening to some people. It’s also why I meditate and pray.

Tom