I planted a seed,
but it did not ask me why.
As it grew I watered it,
but it did not ask me why.
When it grew leaves I pruned it,
But it did not ask me why.
When it grew so very tall,
It did not ask me why.
When I sat and leaned upon it,
It did not ask me why.
And when it then began to die,
It did not ask me why.
But I am Human,
And I ask why.
Oh if only I could be,
Like that very tree.
For it knows nothing,
Of what I ask,
And boasts not of,
That which I bask.
Yet reaches its branches
Up to the Heavens.
And leaves me at its base,
Asking why.
by
Jon Shuck