Old Soul (Poetry)

I know that I’ve come from somewhere —
but I can’t remember where
and I’ve been waiting for something
yet I can’t remember what
I’m not really sure who I am
but I’m certain who I’m not
I’ve neither horns nor angel wings
at least, as far as I’m aware

The years are no true measure of my age
some nights I dream I’m older than the moon
I meditate and search my inner self
for answers to those questions I can’t ask
anyone else — for they would name me odd —
prophet, witch or sage
label me as loon
so I keep my own council
contemplate the open book
and find my own invisible god
resting comfortably on a blank bible-free page

As time ticks off the minutes in each day
I come to slowly realize
that the sum of all I know
seems less and less
understanding fades and meaning blurs
and wisdom is the most elusive word
facts no more solid than pure fancy’s guess
or old ideas the world has thrown away