Why?

Why?

Why does the world turn when I feel still,

caught between questions I cannot answer,

and why does the heart search for meaning,

even when silence offers none?

Why do memories cling to the corners,

refusing to fade as time moves on,

and why do I reach for understanding,

as if it could open every locked door?

I ask these questions without fear,

because questions are part of living,

and somewhere beyond the quiet sky,

I trust the answers will rise when ready.

The questions drift like slow moving clouds,

shifting gently as the hours pass,

and I stand with a patient spirit,

willing to wait for whatever truth appears.

I learn that not every question needs a reply,

only a heart willing to hold the unknown,

and I continue forward with quiet acceptance,

knowing life will answer in its own time.