well of a question


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.