More Questions

Copyright © 1998 Property of Deborah K. Fletcher. All rights reserved.

September 23, 1988

I ask questions.
I seek answers.
They are the same questions.
They have elusive answers.
I am not the first
To look to the heavens
And ask them.
I am not the first
To wonder what is,
Or why, or how.
I will not be the last.
I am just one
Of a long line
Of questioning souls.
I ask: "Why are we here?"
I ask: "How are we here?"
I ask: "Where is here?"
I ask: "When is now?"
I ask what the future
Has to do with the past,
And how we slight mortals
Fit into the future.
I ask about life,
And death,
And love,
And war,
And peace,
And joy,
And time,
And all the questions
Start and end with why.
Every why
Gives me a new why.
It is frustrating,
But I keep asking.
I keep seeking answers
To answerless questions.
Perhaps I will stop,
But when I stop,
I will be dead.
For I live on learning,
And I learn from questions.

Comments, constructive criticism, etc, about this poem are greatly appreciated.

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