Why do we breathe, immutable compulsive lies?
Have we lost our fear, of the strength of the skies.
What is the essence of pain can anybody tell me?
Is it a test of resistance, a pervious introversion.
Why pretend to indulge, in relentless search for peace?
When we offer stratagem, diplomatic, downright deceit.
Why are we unconscious, maiming this existence?
Will we ever understand, life’s mystical persistence.
1997 – ©Copyright Lynette Dias-Gouveia
Lynette Dias Gouveia
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/four-random-questions/
