Why
Why on the canvas we do draw
To express and excise our flaws
Why on the paper we do write
To explain our subjects and our plights
Why do we read the prose
Simply, it’s beautiful as a rose
Why driven to create
Inexplicably, some would say innate
Why the melodies we do sing
Because we search for love and meaning
Why do we dance and play
The child in us, they say
We must do these things
We are living beings
