Maybe That’s It

Making sense

Brings its own questions

Like floating through space

How is that possible?

And the pink in the rock

And the blue and the green

How do they come about?

And a cats purr

Why do I remember the peace when I hear it?

And it is peaceful

Like a lake or a crisp sun in winter

I don’t want to make sense of the why

Maybe that’s it

As if I did, maybe magic wouldn’t exist anymore

Sense

It may make no sense

No sense at all

But listen to this

As man of tall

Shall bend at the knees

As petals fall

And the breaking of day

Is best thought at night

To imagine to the sun

Most vivid in sight

And some days I’m weary

Some days I’m cold

Some days I’m young and others I’m old

Sense is the happen

No need for the why

As we’re born, we exist

And the end, we die.