The biggest question for me:
Why am I not a tree,
…instead of this human be?
A question going deeper than space,
a well and the sea
And, does the tree ask why it ‘s not me?
Because of What, am I this human dot?
Come, give your answer an honest shot.
Am I still becoming a star?
Or, maybe a whole galaxy afar?
Why am I the one I be?
Happenstance, fluke, — tell me?
Of course, they will quote:
The answer is somewhere in
religion, philosophy and G . d’s boat
Academia might also have something they wrote
Surely though, you don’t still believe all this trap?
Man-made bloat and a heap of (s)crap
I wanna know why I am not a tree?
And, answering ‘because!’ gets me no closer to me
I am not a tree, so much in the mirror I see
But then the ideas of who I really am leave me be
Sunk in a question most important to me
My ship’s pondering and crisscrossing that sea
Cleverists answer: “you are whatever you want to be,”
Damn! It still doesn’t tell me why I am not a tree
Because no matter how hard I try to be,
a tree stays a tree and I am me, and who is he?
Even now there is still no answer, you see?
Mayhaps the tree is inside me or I am in the tree?
Quite crazeely confused ’bout everything,
— that’s me.