Tell Me Why
“Tell me why—why the birds sing—
Tell me why—why do I love you, my God.”
I was little when asked by my mother, “Believe you in God?”
I did not stutter nor wax philosophic asking what ‘God’ might be—
I said, “Yes!—a thousand times Yes! His presence dwells within.”
Yet came the day in locution with self that I found my soul troubled—
Adam choosing ‘bad,’ while thinking he could choose ‘good,’
And he ruined us all with something called ‘sin.’
“Why?”—I cry why—to this day I cry “Why?”
Was he driven by nature? How else could it be?
Philosophic—I chose—or did it choose me?
Do God and philosophy dwell friendly or fighting within?
“What the answer?” he cautions in love as my lawn needs its last mow.
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