Making Sense of it All

Gone are the days

When things made

Perfect sense.

 

When we are young,

All we need to understand

Are the basics of math,

What games to play at lunch,

Where we can

And couldn’t go,

What we can

And can’t do.

 

Then we grow up.

Things become complicated.

Things start happening.

Now, not much makes sense

Anymore.

 

We try to comprehend

The things that happen,

Adding things together

That maybe shouldn’t be added

To get wrong conclusions,

And adding other things

To give us partial answers.

 

Time is spent

Fighting for logic,

For things to be ordered.

 

But when one question

Is answered,

Another takes its place

Consuming

Heart and mind

Once more.

 

As we try to figure out

Why things happen

Or how they happened,

We can become conceited,

As we attempt to understand

The humanity around us,

As we search

For what is hidden

Right in front of us.

 

It soon gets to a point

Where we wonder

“Is it worth it?”

But push on anyway

As the reality we saw

Crumbles to dust.

 

All that is left behind

Is a table top,

Covered in scratches

That were made

In a vain attempt

To make sense

Of the world.

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