There is this
Thing called knowing
Gnawing at me
A voice that
Only grows louder
When I’m alone
I heard it
First when young
Begging to belong
To capitulate to
Ignore my moral
Compass and sail
On the fickle
Winds of others
But now at
This age of
My own life
Having conquered my
World and wars
I finally listen
Understanding that this
Voice of knowing
Knows me better
Than anyone else
Bringing the peace
Of my age
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 