Where are the Guideposts?

Old photographs lining shelves

give me no insight

as to where I’ve been

and absolutely no indication

of where I am to be

let alone

how to get there

There was a time when it didn’t matter

days were lived

one right after another

without

a

single

thought

as to what it all meant

and dreams

were nothing more than a side effect of sleep

Only after awakening

did the dreams, not of sleep

but of soul

unfold

Where is the clarity

the still waters

the guideposts?

The tides are high

and the road tangled

with uncertainty

and doubt

when all I thought I knew once

vanished

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