Flummoxed

I continue to be flummoxed

In my quest to determine absolutely

The right way to go.

Contrary to fearful opinion

There is no empirical evidence for me

To determine the existence of solid ground

Unless I step on it and,

Even then,

It may only be thin ice

I am venturing out on.

The verdict demanded by evidence

It seems to me I must place my trust in the

Sometimes suspect experience of

Those who have gone before,

Often based on an ancient text

Which scholars and philosophers have argued

The veracity and meaning of for centuries.

Perhaps a saving grace is

I also have my own experience to go on,

And, either I am delusional,

Am misreading certain unexplained phenomena,

Or I’m headed, if somewhat haphazardly,

Down the right road,

I really can’t say which.

I wish I had a definitive answer

And could be of further help.

I know that some who claim to have found their way

Are poster children for places you don’t want to go,

But it says somewhere you have to taste it

To see if it’s any good.

So, good luck on your journey

And I hope you find the way.