? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? Poem by RIC BASTASA

in this life
there will be more questions than answers
everything seems to start with a what
followed up with when
and where but the most intriguing of course,
that which is unquenchable
that which demands the intervention of some
divinification
is the.....why?

so it is common: why me? why me?
why this? why did this happen to me?

fly to this world like a bird and gather the leaves
of whys
or just see them
they are like dusts, like sands of the shore, they are like
the particles in space, some meteors that they shoot
some planets unrevealed
some other galaxies unknown to us,

why? why?
it goes back again to why, it is true, this world is filled more
with questions
and the answers are getting less and less credible,
somehow others have given up the quest for answers
drowning in wine
and drugged themselves to this puzzle, this confusion,
this unknowables,

it is true, there must be a reason why,
we demand an explanation for the whys in our lives,
but then think somehow,

who are we to ask why?
we must go back to the basics of what, again for another start.

what are we? who are we?
we are but specks of light in the ocean of space
we are but the pebbles of the great rock
we are but fine granules of sand in the shore of this great universe.

i, think, let us be humble enough
to bow our heads, then look to the skies with awe and wonder,

then wait for a while
till the right when comes, then let us ask, why?