I asked the universe, why?
And it replied:

Why?

Why make the sand, or field of rye?
Why let each day become the nigh?
Why let the rain drops darken eyes?
Why let the cherry blossoms fly?

Why?

Why cast a stone cold moon beam glow?
Why freeze the water solid though?
Why let the leaves disguise the crow?
Why let the earth decay so slow?

Why?

Why cast the shadows full of fright?
Why let the stars bring hope each night?
Why sparking flashes, claps of light?
Why does the ivy choke so tight?

Why?

Why does the mist engulf the bay?
Why in the cold grass do we lay?
Why the fire of breaking day?
What am I supposed to say?

I asked the universe, why?
And it replied, it replied,
Why…why…why…why…why…