My ignorance about the world is vast.
My ignorance about myself is vaster.
I stretch my gifts, and still wind up typecast.
I hold myself back, and it’s a disaster.
The way I think about my life is not
The way I feel about it. What I do
Is based on instinct and caprice, not thought;
And who I am’s not deed, but follow-through.
I worry more about what may or might
Than I prepare for all that will and must.
My faith is ignorance with piercing sight;
My ignorance a crafty form of trust.
My knowledge? One unalterable text:
Life has no afterwards—just now, and next.
Copyright 2017 Matthew J Wells