I don't know why but I feel the need to write sonnets.
Through time and space the infinite questions,
Purview that which we do not know as yet.
What we know comes with the alterations,
Of full circle philosophies we've met.
"Questions beget more questions." Teacher says.
But where is the ultimate question found?
Knowing this would lead us to that which is,
Incomprehensible nature unbound.
Multiverse can purpose us to resist,
That nature can alternate position,
Of those to us that already exist,
Despite our experienced rendition.
What? How? Who? When? Where? Why? only begin
The questions that may too lie there within.
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