Mountains form, and ages pass by,
every man has questioned, out of doubt or fear,
"what's the purpose?" or just "why?"
Still unanswered; not even near.
What's right? And what's wrong?
What's fair? And what's unfair?
You may ask your whole life long,
yet, who knows! and why do you care!
The pragmatist reflects, why ask!
The dreamer rebuts, you have no heart!
Let's just live, that's the task,
is the answer of a simple lark.
The questions consume, the questions remain,
Why uncover questions, with no use?
Mother nature! such deceit, such legerdemain!
why allow men such mental abuse?
More like an onion, with every skin I peel.
Kipling and Tagore, you may stir in your graves.
But, the deeper I dig, the shallower I feel;
this world was never for the braves.
Many will come, and many will go,
but the questions stay; they never die.
The choices you make are yours to keep,
There are no answers, I won't lie.