Just Wondering Why

There are a thousand hacking at the branches of evil to one who is striking at the root. - Thoreau

Walden Pond

straight as a drunken crow flies

crooked as a born liar's lies

not to mention a blind, dishonest, banker's collection of stefano ricci, mulberry, silk ties

hard as day-old french fries

sometimes this world blackens my eyes

darkening my skies

who, what, where, when and how along with all of their incessant, disheartening "whys"

ever trying to fool me with a new disguise

faith, hope and eternity holding the elusive, evasive prize

yet a fourth man bearing gifts and riding a camel wise

sure as paint in the desert dries

and pigs live in sties

today lies down and dies

as yesterday cries

sure, the sun may rise

but last night always scratches its head and tries as it curiously wonders why

Author's Note

"Night is certainly more novel and less profane than day. I soon discovered that I was acquainted only with its complexion; and as for the moon, I had seen her only as it were through a crevice in a shutter, occasionally." - Thoreau