The strangest questions

July 12, 2012 | Filed under: Poems | Posted by:

 

It takes the strangest questions to know
That life is not what it seems
At the outset, in the thick of things
In places long shadowed by luring masses
What was the big bang?
The sun would be asked imploringly
And the answer could be in books
With pages softened by the moisture
Of hundreds of perspiring geniuses
But the universe is a scrooge
Giving in pieces, like tiny portions
Doled out during lunch at an orphanage
It can only lend a silver moon perhaps
Taking it away every fortnight
And rationing its light through the days
Perhaps a glimpse of a falling star
A comet loose and free, in infinite space
Whirling in time, and maybe
A tiny blue-green fantasy
Which held the poring minds of
Imploring geniuses, muttering into space

And then there could be,
Somewhere on that planet, a child
Making her own observations with life,
The soap bubbles in her bath, and the
Sneaking midnight kisses, her mother’s
Parched lips left on a worrisome night
How she would grow perhaps, to learn
That the horizon
Was not the edge of the world,
But merely just another point on what was now
A circle of life, an infinite loop, that began
Where it would eventually fall
Unto oneself and end

But it could scarcely matter,
As the girl would notice
That there is merely heat and cold,
Light and darkness
Love and hate, the pure,
The corrupted, and well,
Under the cover of a thousand questions
And a million sighs of unfinished answers
It takes but the strangest questions to know
That life is not what it seems
At the outset, in the thick of things
In places long shadowed by luring masses
That life, well, it exists.

 

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