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Knowledge
I don't know from where knowledge comes sometimes.
For example, I don't know from where algebraic equations flash into my mind at four o'clock in the afternoon when my youngest son needs help with his assignment. I just don't know.
I don't know from where poetry flows through a river of fluid phrases, yet I find them like tide pools of ecosystems waiting to be discovered and studied. I just don't know.
I don't know from where stamina resides to exert itself beyond the "not-this-again" moments I face each day. I just don't know.
I don't know from where love continues to bloom between two people who see one another as they were while the mirror tells it like it is, and both views can be just as true. I just don't know.
I don't know from where the years turn babies into men, and the heart, ignoring the change, still cradles them against their nightmares and lifts them toward their dreams. I just don't know.
I don't know from where all my life lines are drawn so that I might step too close or back away. I just don't know.
I just don't know from where knowledge comes sometimes. Maybe knowledge is knowing just enough to look for it. Maybe that is where it's found.
The heart of the discerning acquires knowledge,