These things I never knew,
Until I came to know them.
I never knew what silence was,
Until I heard my first sound.
I never knew what love was,
Until I felt hate all around.
I never knew what daylight was,
Until the dark fell across my path.
I never knew what peace was,
Until the storm’s aftermath.
I never knew what mystery was,
Until its secret became a gift.
I never knew what wings were,
Until I felt their awesome lift.
I never knew what happiness was,
Until sadness tore me down.
I never knew what salvation was,
Until I felt the devil’s frown.
I never knew what fear was,
Until I saw the angel of death.
I never knew what life was,
Until death stole my breath.
I never knew time’s true face,
Until eternity took its place.
These things I never knew,
Until I came to know them.
Wise is the only word that comes to mind as I read this poem. The only adjective I could think of is "very" I'm gonna share it with family and friends. Have a great day dear xo
Some years ago when Donald Rumsfeld talked about known unknowns and unknown unknowns I though he should have talked about the unknown knowns, the things we know but don't know we know.
I think you are onto the unknown knowns here, the things we never think about until something happens to make us aware of them. Then we think, "Yes I know thism it is silence and it's beautiful (or threatening sometimes maybe.)
BASED ON THE LAST 4 LINES OF THIS WELL WRITTEN SHARING, I ENJOYED THIS RICH TESTIMONY FROM A DEAD MAN(SMILE). THANKS FOR SHARING. LOVE, BLESSINGS AND FAITH...JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS
Articulate and intimate piece of the learning process. You covered many bases in this poem, but left the reader never feeling something was missing. Enjoyed this immensely.
Early Works is an exhaustive compilation of the first decade of the poems and stories of Z.B.McClure. Included are family photos, rare personal photos, photos of 1st draft manuscripts of many of his early poems. Also some biography and memoir materia
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I think you are onto the unknown knowns here, the things we never think about until something happens to make us aware of them. Then we think, "Yes I know thism it is silence and it's beautiful (or threatening sometimes maybe.)
until i read John Herlihy.
I tip my hat to You.
Love ya!
Jane