'Why?' The word dangles from the child's lips. Scanning, searching, groping everywhere. Doors opened towards everything and nothing. Simple, natural, irrepressible impulse. Then fading. Not the end of questions, but the 'why?' becomes 'when?'. Or 'how much?'. The end of 'why?' and no more questioning. Everything given, taken for granted, claimed by birthright. Not even a 'what for?'. And that's our shame, a winding - but not the only - road. To stop questioning. No 'why?' for choices. For words. Tongue. Daylight. Summer wind. Kisses. The ocean. Silence. Music. Shoes on your feet. No flies on your skin. No poison in your well. No well, in fact, just running water. But no 'why?'. And we walk - no, we run - with no questions asked. To leave the questions behind - or to choose which ones to leave behind - is everyone's choice. And it is more than an exercise in self-pity. But it is simpler than that. Maybe just a gaze at the sun with air-filled lungs in a spring morning. Or maybe less. So it goes.
Into starlight.
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