Tell me why you live, tell me why we die ...
Why this young man who, in a shiver of terror, feel the madness take over his mind?
Why this young woman who cries out in revolt against an inevitable death while that life opened wide before her?
Why should this old priest still preach things and do things that he no longer believes as he does not know anything else?
Why this mother emaciated Sudanese, in as dry as his eyes, sees her baby die of starvation in his arms? Why traveling this
lying in a bed of misery he wonders if he still will one day find a reason to live?
Why this mother cheetah she looks far into the whimpering tiger that devours its young?
Why Should the soldier to shoot other men who may like him, toddlers who are waiting at home? Why
makeshift boats they sink at sea resulting in the death of refugees in the eyes full of hope?
Why this old lion exhausted he collapsed in the bush while a pack of hungry hyenas cautiously advances?
Why this unfortunate happening there for many years in prison for a stupid mistake?
Why these children are soldiers trained to kill?
Why these men, like rabid dogs, they torturing other men or stoning women?
And loneliness, you know, the solitude! What do you do with loneliness? Without a visit to the beloved son, without a letter in the mail, without even a phone for a month. And this old woman who is dying of despair and boredom?
Why must we live lives of misery and then die?
Why will you finally tell me why?
......
Well, maybe because ...
ago this mother that clamps on her breast the child is born?
And this old lady who sees rise in her a love like she had never expected? Or
notes inflamed the symphony that flows into the head of this brilliant composer?
Or the blaze of the star that rises stunningly and unexpectedly, a cloud of gas and dust?
Or that old farmer who, in the evening, watching the new crop springing from the earth?
Or the young father who sees his little run herself into his arms, shouting for joy?
Or the rider who raises an arm in victory crossing the finish line of a hundred yards? Or
this astronomer who, despite his knowledge, still marvels at a starry night?
Or the girl distracted love dancing in the rain?
Or the anthropologist who is jubilant as a child before the bones of a dinosaur that comes from digging?
Or that huge whale that soars above the waves in an explosion of joy?
Or the man who, in the silence of dusk, feels an immense peace descend on him?
Or this child sobbing in the arms of his mother he thought had been extinct?
......
Are these, do you, answers your questions?
Or perhaps ultimately, should we simply accept his life as a great gift, even if issimulates vipers and sometimes even if it is just a brief flicker that will soon end, taking with it its unfathomable mysteries?
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