Over the next ridge is a new challenge…

Over the next ridge is a new challenge…
A new adventure…
Down the next valley, perhaps a peaceful respite
From toil, from stress, from the worldly cares
And busy-ness that wrings the life out of my soul.
There never was a time that this feeling did not exist…
A sort of shadow, lurking, smothering,
Clouding my life and judgment
About the questions of life
What to do? Where to go? Who to be?
It all seems so restless, pointless, grueling
When I get right down to it.
Perhaps I am being morbid or morose.
Some may say it is due to getting older
But no, I don’t think these thoughts have anything to do with
Aging
Maturing
Or
Trundling toward an end
Whatever that end may be…
And how can we be certain?
Certain
As in the certainty of opening a sealed can of Folger’s coffee
And knowing, without a hint of doubt,
That what you’re opening is indeed
Folger’s Classic Roast…
(An amen goes there)
But amens are for the faithful crowd
Who never ask a question with a ? behind it.
The only ?s that are allowed are ones followed by rambunctious !s