Often craves and requires
The world around to warp
Twist and contort
Fit the insides of itself
TO understand and be understood
Comprehension of itself
Questions to be answered
Questions to be posed
The little mind steadily grows
And as it matures it begins to knows
That as the mind can only ever grow
So do the questions of life
And the pertinence of itself
Is soon dependant on life
The universe was static
Cold dark and vast
And in its infinite vastness
Created a mind so clouded and overcast
That in its insignificance
Imagined itself to understand it all
The little mind grows old
Only to realize it has lived in a mould
Would it ever be capable of knowing
The secrets of the universe without going
To neatly hidden a backroom away from itself?
Tired and desolate, utterly depressed,
The mind gives up and eternally rests
The point of life, he surmised,
Was not at all to question why
It was indeed after all, to do and die.
Found the next day stiff and cold,
His friends called him wise and bold
But yet, a man in search of fool’s gold
But the smile on his face disagreed
He’d found peace, through such a simple a deed.
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