-- The Eternal Question Why --
Each of us are cut of a different cloth,
With all the inquisitiveness of a moth.
Each of us travel along a road of destiny,
In pursuit of one true elusive mystery.
We journey from here to Ultima Thule,
Always in the light of the golden rule.
Whenever we feel our morale needs a boost,
We return to the hearth like a chicken to roost.
We close our eyes giving life due consideration,
Lost in the maze of reflective contemplation.
The songs of blue birds set our souls at ease,
The sight of bluebells nodding sleepily in breeze.
Just as the swallows travel elsewhere for summer,
The squirrels prepare with foresight for the winter.
Like sparrows, we to travel seasonally on the go,
Like squirrels we have foresight but don’t always know.
How easily we sit comfortably in our train of thought,
Our thoughts upholstered by all the dreams we sought.
At summer’s end, wind shakes off flower petals with ease,
In heartless winter winds, light snow dusts the birch trees.
In the darkness of the night and silence of the flat land,
Amid the growing wheat and thriving weeds, a command.
Along the long empty roads, the sullen fire of sunset fading,
The tired souls of men and women into the night wading.
Against all this and more, the eternal unresponsive sky
Amid all the answers we learn in life, the eternal question WHY
- - - - -
Each of us are cut of a different cloth,
With all the inquisitiveness of a moth.
Each of us travel along a road of destiny,
In pursuit of one true elusive mystery.
We journey from here to Ultima Thule,
Always in the light of the golden rule.
Whenever we feel our morale needs a boost,
We return to the hearth like a chicken to roost.
We close our eyes giving life due consideration,
Lost in the maze of reflective contemplation.
The songs of blue birds set our souls at ease,
The sight of bluebells nodding sleepily in breeze.
Just as the swallows travel elsewhere for summer,
The squirrels prepare with foresight for the winter.
Like sparrows, we to travel seasonally on the go,
Like squirrels we have foresight but don’t always know.
How easily we sit comfortably in our train of thought,
Our thoughts upholstered by all the dreams we sought.
At summer’s end, wind shakes off flower petals with ease,
In heartless winter winds, light snow dusts the birch trees.
In the darkness of the night and silence of the flat land,
Amid the growing wheat and thriving weeds, a command.
Along the long empty roads, the sullen fire of sunset fading,
The tired souls of men and women into the night wading.
Against all this and more, the eternal unresponsive sky
Amid all the answers we learn in life, the eternal question WHY
- - - - -
