The Fargo Kantrowitz'z Literary Campsite

Young, we scour all things, for truths.
So much new, million mile message.
We believe that finally we know.
But a truth ofen hides after discovery,
Till nothing at all can be pinned.
You wonder what you knew,
Whether you had ever truly learned.
Maybe you did. Maybe you didn’t.
The truth seems taken from you,
Given back to the air, released.
Re-symbolized forever away from you.
So we prize the truths of the young,
Fresh eyes on ancient things,
But, still, the same dissipation –eventually-
The ambling away of palpable now
Back to dark, mysterious places.
Learned yet not so learned,
The known, not so known.
For the question is gone.
The need to know satiated.
Answers so integrated as to disappear.
Tell us, tell us, tell us!
Scream the young, like we did, I might add,
And we raise our heads, our minds,
Look up and see…nothing.
All is like it was before the attempt,
The desperate grab at knowing done,
Airy you, airy me, blue clouds each, rainless.
Nothing new, old sun.