the things we most
want to know
are the things we know
we never can:
when (and if)
the universe began,
what made
contrary Mary's
garden grow, and
how long it will take
our spectacular castles
to crumble
into sand.
It's as if
our brains
think they can
construct the answers
from haphazard
hints, red herrings,
and coincidences.
But perhaps this drive
to aggrandize our ability
reflects better
on the doggedness
of our hearts, which,
even as blind batters
before the pitcher
of fate, still
tap the plate and swing
for the fences.
