Who knows

Who knows where time goes when she’s gone

What love is when she dawns

Or death when he comes to get what is his

Who knows why music sometimes comes alive

How simple words cut throats like knives

Why treacherous handshakes start a war

Who knows how clouds look before they’re born

Why your young hands look old and worn

Why some men love small children more than justice

Who knows why you never give me enough room

What flowers think when they want to bloom

why the opium of some kills a thousand innocents

All those questions remain unanswered

Yet, are they all asked in vain?

One simple question lingers:

If we knew it, would we change?

This is it

What else do we live for

But to love and find truth

And leave before the lies dawn,

To walk barefoot on Leaves of Grass

Lose patience with the ever smiling sun

Not frown at the children in our yards

And embrace the aged, the rocks on which we stand

Tell me, what else is there?

Is it fame? Or money?

Even music fades.

What else do we live for

But to let our naked souls

Confess when darkness falls

Swim in seas of insecurities

Dive in the desert of broken desire

Not let our pens lie down to rest

Or close the books of our fathers

Tell me, what else is there?

Is it science? Or progress?

Even poetry fades.

What else do we live for

But to taste hope on Sunday mornings

try to walk on water, bathe in sinking sands,

Breathe the rage of a summer storm

And smell the earth after the rain has gone

Strive for knowledge, balance it

in the palms of our hands

With faith we don’t know yet

Tell me, what else is there?

This is it: a moment’s bliss.

Don’t cross out lines, don’t miss

To move the frontier to the west

To conquer your heart’s wilderness

Knit your mistakes into the text

Don’t fear the paths not paved yet

Nor the pain at the end of the road

Because this is it, no more no less:

A brief second of happiness.