The depths of a thoughtful sigh,
A question that challenges lies
The fundamental core of our being, so cunning,
It is the basic yet profound question, "Oh, why?"
****
What causes the moon's silver glow?
Do you like to ebb and flow with the tides?
Why do tears fall from the sky like rain?
Or is it when we part ways that we laugh?
****
Why does the heart beat in rhythm?
pound in our chests with happiness and sorrow?
Why do we have such lofty aspirations?
Reaching up to the stars in the infinite sky?
****
Why do we try to comprehend the unknowable?
exploring the hidden mysteries beneath the undergrowth?
Why does knowledge suggest, like a flame,
Under the boundless sky, is there a way to answers?
****
Why do we doubt what we observe?
unraveling intricate and unrestricted truths?
My friend, why are you trying to condemn?
a quest of curiosity and a never-ending why?
****
We discover the spark of our birth in the "why,"
a request to discover the size of the Earth,
Because questions are what keep our spirits high.
As we journey through life, never asking why.
****
So let the "why" serve as our compass.
In our travels over the globe, both near and far,
In this investigation, we will always rely on,
And uncover the solutions below the limitless sky.
_____
Gratitude.
About the Creator
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
Hello! I'm a writer. With a deep passion for stories, I've dedicated myself to WRITING STORIES. I'm always eager to learn, grow, and share my experiences with the world. Join me on this journey and let's inspire each other.
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More stories from WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE and writers in Poets and other communities.
Can You Drive a Ford Fiesta Through a Desert?
I’m flying down the B1 highway from Windhoek to Keetmanshoop with a map and a boot full of camping gear. I’m excited for the first stop of my Namibian road trip: the Quiver Tree Forest. I spot the sign and turn onto the C17, off the tarmac and onto the gravel. I’ll be there soon; it’s only ten miles or so. I am unprepared for what comes next. The car slides and slips across the road. I am not fully in control anymore. I slow to a crawl. The car judders and shudders, the noise deafening, the vibrations rattling the teeth in my skull. It takes me around an hour to drive the ten miles. I arrive at the campsite relieved to be in one piece, even if it feels like all my bones have been shaken slightly out of place. I will later learn that this is what happens when the gravel road becomes “corrugated”, and that the roads authority goes round once a week to “grade” them. Seems I arrived about 6 days after the grader had last been round.
By Jenifer Nim7 days ago in Wander
Comments (3)
U ar something else🔥👌
Let curiosity guide you! Nice poem.
extraordinary