Pregunta

I ask the questions, odd and strange,  
Ones that seem to rearrange,  
The flow of thoughts, the rhythm's beat,  
To see how minds might skip a beat.  

Not for answers, but for pause,  
For that moment where silence draws,  
A thought that's caught, a mind's reply,  
A question floating, drifting by.  

I wonder if the truth will show,  
Or if the answer will still grow,  
But in the end, what’s understood,  
Is honesty, as it should be.

NP