Questions

It does scare me that in a field of chirping canaries,

flies wallowing in the flock of felicias,

the breeze channeling through brazen withering grass, 

I can’t feel at peace. 
Why, in a lovely grounds, in the bounty of nature, 

do I feel that I don’t belong? 
Why, away from the crutches of mad mankind,
listening to the animals talk, 

can’t I focus on their song? 
What insanity has engulfed me as the frog did the fly? 

The longer I stay put, the more I wonder “why?” 
The madness never ceases. 

Hours pass by while my soul further creases. 
Searching, searching, has made this heart sore; 

but it never knows what it’s searching for.