Looking For Answers

A poem

Why the earth is our home? Why the sun shines and we call it a day? Why the moon comes and we call it a night?

Why do we breathe air? Why do we eat food? Why do we call it a life?

Why the chair is called chair? Why don’t we call it strawberry? Why can't we make our own words?

Why do we call it life? Why can’t we call it death?

A 5-year-old boy asked me these questions and I can probably answer all of them but the intensity of his thoughts made me speechless. I later learned that he got transferred from the previous school because he was always asking these kinds of questions and his classmates were always making fun of him.

But let’s just think about the fact that how many of us have questioned these things at the age of 5. When I was 5 all I knew was how to make my elder brother’s life miserable and the only thing I was questioning was “Can I eat another candy?”