Why am I even listening?

By dan ankers

Each of us was through viscerus

Squeezed

Gelled and Congealed through many a turn of the handle

Like pork sausages we, our gristle and bone

Sinews and nerves

They did build on their own

Machinery assembled by another machine

None of it knowing

That it’s building this being

So very ample

Of complexity wondrous

In simplicity, often there are lessons, too

For the very great beings which the functions go through

We are amazing

Our bodies make sense

Yet none of it mounts

Even a reasonable defence

Or tries to answer why

We are here after all

With questions so HUGE

And my answers

SO very SMALL