A Question of time
Do we need mathematicians, or poets, to solve
the queries of life as our existence evolves?
Is there sensible reason in thinking small rhymes
can add up to answers that help explain time?
How old is the sunrise? How new is the quark?
Are we safe in the daylight when we fear the dark?
The path least resistant water knows well.
Is the short sight of straight distance a line to Hell?
Do you care for the process of learning the bonds
that hold nature together and nurture our songs?
Would our existence matter if no one shed light
on the spirits that move us or the genius of flight?
With words that meter and numbers that play,
to master of life's time need we work every day?
conscious of envy, anger, denial, and truths,
can we make perceptions through worthless pursuits?
Will bigot and fascists help us live long and prosper?
Or is learning to share and care the real life to savor