Inquisition

Why is the sky orange?
Because we were too inquisitive, and there is a cost to spirit for everything.

Why are all the ponds frozen?
Because we could not wait for them to freeze themselves, we were impatient.

Why is there graffiti on every blasted wall?
Because before the end we wanted to scribble our tattered beginnings over everything.

Why are we all so numb now?
Because we are not sure whether we are alive, or whether life ran away in search for justice.

Why is every sound so muted?
Because the ringing in our ears overtakes every other sound.

Why are some willing to build, some not?
Because hope is like the sky now, pale like sherbet, of a different color and quality.

Why are all the birds absent from the sky?
Because they died as a matter of course, or because we cannot see them through the film directly overhead.

Why are we all twisted and deformed?
Beacuse our bodies have taken a long course in learning how to transform in response to disaster.

Why are some still raising banners for the kingdom?
Because the kingdom is surreal and overreal, because it is equally a reign of God and Godlessnesss.

Why is there a sweet flavor lingering in the air?
Because when bitterness is thoroughly exhausted it leaves behind a certain sweetness.

Why does everything seem to float now?
Becuse the heaviness of a lack of gravity and a center of gravity is still a lack of gravity and center.

Why has everything lost its name?
Because senselessness can be liberating, and names are little straightjackets of sense.

Why is the pale orange sky getting lower by the day, by the hour?
Because the sky stoops down to the level of our fantasies of getting closer to it.

Why are we afraid to touch anything?
Because the last few million times we touched things led to no good, because everywhere we touch leads to dystopia.

Why is that child still smiling, his face like tumeric?
Because children know how to ignore what we cannot, and how to love what we ignore.