Why?
Isn’t that the question?
Some say some day it will be answered to our satisfaction
But I have feeling the answer will always be
Because
Life is like miscarriage
There’s hope, and plans, and preparation
A pregnant pause where anything can happen
And God help us it does
And in the unlikely event we survive it
We’re doomed
Birth happens to remind us there’s a future
Miscarriage happens to remind us we screwed it up
And death evens it all out in the end
By ending all things with life
Why
Of all the animals
Are we supposedly the only ones that ask why
And the only ones who don’t know already
There is a reason, an end, inscrutable but good
If we don’t survive
We’ll meet it