If I asked you the question of your birth,
your answer would be “I Am That I Am.”
Forgive me, sir: there’s more to be unearthed.
Beyond the family graves of Abraham.
If it is true, you made the universe;
And set eternity in all our hearts.
Why is the flock so stubbornly averse?
And would conclude I’m choosing to depart?
For asking does not mean I am astray.
Nor does it mean that I am going Dark.
I question, yes, but also I still pray.
My hunches are not based upon a lark.
Why is God’s will unchallenged, unrestrained:
and his creation’s queries deemed inane?