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  • Writer's pictureZoléna

A Curious Endeavour

What is this? What is that?

Who are you?

Who am I?

What we are, I do not know,

birthed from stars seems like our show.

Seems like we've come from far away,

seems like we've always had our day.

This thing we today call life,

is it not a mystery?

Is it always played, this fife,

past and future history?

All I know is I'm here now,

or am I even that?

When I don't even know the how,

was it always in the hat?

Why is my version different to yours,

why aren't we the same?

Or do we simply go through doors

and play a common game?

A game of how we're shown that love

is underneath it all.

A game of how we grow by

understanding we can't fall.

I know very little of this strange reality,

other than it's lovely to explore through poetry.

topic requested by "Phogelbice"

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