Why, why, why?
Do I seek this absent pattern
of love, and love, and love?
Hate, and death, and sin
seem to rain from heaven above

Why, why, why?
Do I question this reality
inescapable, and abandoned, and derailed?
Love, and love, and love
is what I should have surveilled

Why, why, why?
Is there something, rather than nothing
this riddling, devouring, accidental presence?
No! No! No! Of course not, child...
It's a presence of love, and love, and love!