I will not ask questions
of this perfect place.
I will ask anti-questions.
Not why but why not?
Why not
that we are born
and should be born,
and born, and born?
Why not, every voice
is the stone speaking at last?
Why not that youth be wiser
and should be our teacher?
Why not,
that love is a rhapsody
inside the last step ever taken?
Why not that God
was the playmate who chased us
as a child,
and waited for us after school?
Why not that poetry is science
on a higher level,
immune to metaphysical stars?
Why not that wonder
is the first explanation of everything?
Why not,
that pain is a terrible gift
sent to us from heaven?
Why not
that every second
costs the universe a star?
Why not
that there are more seconds in us
than in all of time?
Why not that death
die in peace when it overtakes us?
Why ask questions of the impossible,
when the impossible
does not question itself?