The Why

The Why
   
I asked a gentleman I met the reason for existence.
He told me God so willed it – and we each should seek repentance.
I asked him where to find his God, so I could push this further,
And silently, he pointed up.  If looks could kill, he’d murder.

I climbed a mountain high to be, to God above, that nearer.
But when I sat atop the peak, that reason wasn’t clearer.
I thought I saw Him in a cloud – dreadlocked, fiercely bearded.
I gave a shout.  He disappeared.  Perhaps He had not heard it.

I sought to ask a Buddhist monk.  He said to me, “Nirvana!”
And handed me, in silence, with a smile, a small banana.
Was I to eat it?  Could this be the reason I was born?
I pondered this.  The more I thought, the further I was torn.

Perhaps I should not eat it – simply watch my own desire?
Could this, perhaps, extinguish what remained of mortal fire?
I puzzled on this – till, at last, I fell to sleep and dreaming.
And there I met a madman, in a valley, madly screaming.

“Why do you scream, oh madman?”  I then asked the one insane.
He danced for me a crazy jig, as if to entertain,
But then advanced upon me with a wild and staring eye.
I tried to run – but woke instead – not knowing, still, the why.

2014 January 11, Sat., 2:09 pm
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York