I am the why-child ft. condescending particles


I am the why-child ft. condescending particles

Why child?
I am the why-child.

Wondering why every condescending atom winks in my direction, begging me to ask it directions, and why it should ask such a thing.

How child?
I am the how-child.

Wondering how atoms are winking in the first place, and how they could direct one such as I—fantastically made of the same atomic stock.

Who child?
I am the who-child.

Wondering who I am to see such fantysmal things, and who these conscious elements are that ask me to question them.

What child?
I am the what-child.

Wondering what these atomic suppositions could be, and what causes them to bleed from the ink well in my pen.

When child?
I am the when-child.

Wondering when these whimsical winking particles started speaking to me, and when they developed such terrifying rhetoric poise.

Where child?
I am the where-child.

Wondering from where this ethereal wisdom flows, and where it got the guts to invade this mind with endless questions.

If child?
I am the if-child.

Wondering if any of this makes sense, and if: ‘if-times-if’ divided by ‘if’ equals ‘if’, then if it right, or if it wrong?

Why child?

How child?

Who child?

What! Child?!

When, child…?

Where, child…?

If child…?

With child?

I am each. I am child.
I am made of questions for questions,
To question the questions,
In the Quest for the Question
That answers the questions;
Which is questionably complicated,
And without question, connected
To every condescending particle
I breathe.

My eyes pierce the horizon, wafty questions sift from my mind, like words minced of their meaning. I feel my mouth take the form of a question mark, as reality is rent before me. Through a thousand atomic cracks, I observe the homogeneous world hiding behind a savage complexity, and there I see you wink at me.


© Iain Sutherland, 2014.
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