May

Such trouble in the one word “may.”

An uncertainty, yet wishful; we pray

That tomorrow may be the day.

It is only vaguely referential

To the undone and potential.

It is, like a dangling piece of rope

To be climbed with fearless hope.

It is, behind a shapeless curtain,

The hidden seeker of the uncertain.

It is, the unanswerer of whys

And the unopener of the eyes.

May is only a suggestion,

A marker for the unknown question

We seldom pay attention to.

There may be so much else to do,

You hardly know that you are you.