Concerns of a Rationalist

Tell me why black is worn at funerals,
tell me how an event so tragic can be
the best moment of one’s life.

Tell me why white is worn on days of change,
although white is nothing, it is the reflection of light,
the reflection of truth, the denial of color and substance.
It is empty, meaningless, void.

Tell me why the sun’s rays seem to miss those in need of a tan,
yet effortlessly beam on those hiding under hats.

Tell me why the littlest angels get sent back to heaven,
decades before their time.

Tell me what kind of god shapes the world this way,
tell me what kind of people continue
to live in the same broken world, day after day.

Tell me why black is worn at funerals.