I have a cat, who roams free rangeThe cat of curiosity
His universe is sparkling strange
And shrouded thick in mystery
"Why do", he once asks, "things persist
In time ? what keeps reality
Together, and makes it resist
Breaking into absurdity ?
Why don't objects, from nought, alight,
Wobble, and then vanish from ground ?
Why is left left, and why's right right ?
Why won't axes swivel around ?
Now if you're not quite so upset
May I ponder, May I wonder
Why does it not, the cosmos, get
Spontaneously torn asunder !?"
"Hark", I warn, "these questions yield but
Spiritual calamity !"
"But", he says, "I can't them abort
For the sake of serenity !
Cynicism - a dog's good at
But were I only not a cat
I should wish be Diogenes
Let me jump to, zip in this bag
A cat can do only so much
To show why do questions me nag
Without leeway or recess as such
Where does the cat end, now explain
And where begin the bag's intents ?
Are we two, or do we contain
The same principal components !?"
"You are", I say, "curious to rag
But we cannot resolve this spat
The cat shall be out of the bag
When the bag gets out of the cat !"