Questions and Hauntings

The clouds were low, piercing through us,
the wind was gentle, creating ripples,
on the lake below,
from the high point, I look beneath,
at the world the diminishing to dust,

The questions, lingering around,
what, am I afraid of ?
Of death ? Of being purposeless ?
Such difficult that they were,
I found hard to choose one,

In search of answer,
to these tough questions,
I embarked on journey,
from where there was no return,
to where there was knowledge oozing,

I realize, that I am amid,
question which are haunting