Why ?
  
Why ?
.
If You were me,
and I used to be You.
If You are in them all,
and digits of You are all they.
If scattered souls are all
divisions of Your Divine spirit.
Then why always You ascertain,
Why always You arrange,
my existence so differently strange,
myself so miserably estranged?
When assistance to them is service to you,
when anguish to them arouses pain in You.
When always and ever souls are Your subjects, 
as all of them sprout from Your being.
Then why I question why,
You always make it so,
that souls they turn to me,
and shelter them do I.
But when the orbits start returning,
all You and Your creation vanish.
You and Your creation vanish.
now, then and forever,
You and Your creation vanish.

  
1998
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