Oh Why...someone tell me
By Tony DeLorger © 2013
Why do storms pre-empt fine weather and arguments end in peace?
Why is pain the greatest teacher and love a soul's release?
Why is strife just one more challenge in a world of serenity rarely seen, and hurt accepts its passage, what falls apart is dreams?
Why does my heart ever long for love, when heartache is all that ends, and friendship so it appears to be, is lost my heart transcends?
And why am I awake at night the stars a burden to hold, their endless distant light of past, too much for a mind be told?
Why do I cry at advertisements, with babies, kittens and the old, when I am man and unbreakable, a stoic steel-like mould?
And why is grass greener on the other side, where feet have not dared to tread, and challenge the scale of dizzy heights unwilling to be met.?
Why is disaster always come in numbers, to beat us to the ground, when ass-holes find the pathway smooth, their gain too much, astound?
Why are baby feet so perfect and grown ups gnarled and irksome, why is beauty all we ever want, when a heart reveals the person?
Why do birds sing in the morning, and dogs howl at night, why do drunks stumble in alleyways, their families a horrid plight?
Why is luck a thing of fancy, when losing is commonly felt, but winning a thing of destiny, a meant to be result?
And why do I sleep alone at night time, all marriages gone to heaven, yet other men bald and ugly, find sex and pleasures given?
Why do I enrich my life with morality straight and true, when reckless men with ill-intent rule the world anew?
And why do trees affect me so, I hug them all the time, yet strangle weeds in my back lawn, my conscience not sublime?
Why do I love those that I do, when frustration often stings, and in the end I forgive them all, and give my love some wings?
Why is the world so harsh and cruel, to those of softer nature, when those of tough and leathery hides, live easy lives with stature?
Why do I continue to write so much, my thoughts in hope of learning, when life itself does beckon me, put down your pen you're burning?
And why do I wallow in my unpleasant past, when a clean and inviting future, screams for me to accept it's path and forgive my past illusions?
Why do I ask so many questions, on a minute to minute basis, it's because I know so little, and I want to die sublimated.
And why is life so complex, when we humans are so dumb, I guess if we knew the truth of it, we'd explode or in madness succumb.
Sometimes our questions, the mere asking of them, alludes to the answers we seek.