Whirlwind of Kleenex

I am from poetic lines and ramblings
born of stardust and fairy sprites.
I consist of wonder; I thrive on uncertainties

I am a question:
Who are you? What have I to do with you?
I name and classify
what am I to call you?

You are an answer?
Or is it that you are the biggest question of all?
Perhaps you are the page on which
the curved mark is writ,
and, on seeing you, I will shake my head
and say "Of course."

You, (supposed) certainty of certainties,
embracing my ponderings

You are from nothing and stretch down
out and sideways.
You are cold, clear North
Hot, dusky South, and all in between
You rise,
and I, perhaps in following you
will converge.