Excerpt for Questions About The “Why” Question by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

Title Page

Writings by Sha’Ra On WindWalker

(in collaboration with Sha'Tara EarthStar)

Copyright (©) 2019 Cocoons to Butterflies Publishing

Published by: Cocoons to Butterflies Publishing

Chilliwack, B.C. Canada

Cover picture by: Michael Faes

All pictures found on

Space Picture: ESA/Hubble

I hope you enjoy these writings. Feedback is welcome.


Title Page


A Day Gone Mad

Belief Systems


Civilization Is Like Cement


Competitive Sports


Contributing To Society

Dark Child


No Two The Same

Creating Knowledge


Is Everybody Right?

Dying System

Humans Not Of Earth

One Falls Out


Outlook On Life

Of Tragedies And Horrors

Questions About The “Why” Question


These books contain a form of free verse poetry, opinions based on observation, and some humour and imagination, engaging the heart as well as the mind. A critical look at many current issues intriguing and plaguing man. Spirituality, interaction with nature and environment, social changes, dwindling resources. Well worn issues now, indeed. But the poetry and other works in these books gives this subject a different perspective. I daresay that here we can find a "higher" vantage point from which to look at ourselves within the cosmos.

Who knows but some of the ideas in the books may get you inspired to do that thing you always wanted to do, even if this comes in a very small way, to make your corner of this world a better place to be in. Who knows but you may realize your little corner is a really nice place to be in after all.

It's all about life, if at times expressing life "outside the box" as the saying goes.

A Day Gone Mad

Music and blue skies turning gray

wind in willows; spruces waving

amazing grace added to a day gone mad

with love and joy and celebration

without reason, without reason

and I would gladly rest

within it all, oh yes, I would

were it not

that my body chooses to dance without

and I must follow or relinquish life

without ever knowing

if that was me, or that was I

and did I make the wind come by?

and did I make the willows sigh?

and did I make the blue spruce sing?

and did I bring the robin to the nest?

or is all of this still the same

with or without ... me? Possibly!

but never without I for Eye

sit silently watching

in the center of the Universe knowing:

come, I can always be found here

with a part of me, sometimes.

Belief Systems

Belief systems purport to explain

the deeper truths

not subject to empiric proof,

that is, the unprovable

and unobservable!

Powerful motivators,

impossible to dislodge

even when evidence shows

they are counter-productive

contradictory; destructive.

Boundaries set in eternity,

they are not to be changed

nor the minds of believers.

Set up as absolute truth,

they must supplant

(or be forcefully supplanted by)

whatever system

contradicts its own contradictions.

They hem in the believer,

ever impressing their dogmatic view

upon the mind;

forever reminding the adherents

it must be promoted and protected

at whatever cost to them

or their world.

Evolution demands expansion,

intelligence, understanding, wisdom:

these all need growth in awareness --

evolution does not exclude the mind!

Observation will cause change,

the process most feared

within belief systems.

And so I say to you,

in the unforgettable words

of the great Harry Crumb:

“Believe what you will,

but don't believe it here!”

For “here” needs no belief system.


What is there to brag about

of one over another:

are all things not equal

in the great Oneness?

Bragging, boasting:

Those who indulge in such

cannot demonstrate

their lives, their ways,

as truly superior –

so they must lie.

Why live the limited,

the less than great,

separateness creating dissension

between one-another?

A misconception of duality:

illusion becomes reality.

How can such a trick

reveal the greater

or the lesser?

Look rather to the heart;

the heart of the matter

and the truth shines out:

no need to boast or brag

when truth is the goal.

Civilization Is Like Cement

There's an art to mixing cement

so it will set properly,

not too fast, not too slow, not too runny or dry

and there's a time frame

in which to do the pouring

and the finishing that must follow.

It would seem that civilizations

pose the same problem as does cement:

If they are to be finished properly

they have to be thoroughly mixed;

poured in retaining forms

then worked and reworked

until a smooth surface is achieved.

Using that as an analogy

one must wonder at the state of mind

of the contractors who poured

Earth's various civilizations.

Simply put: they've all been a total mess;

No intelligent buyer would spend a dime on it.

Yet here we are, daily convincing ourselves

there's nothing wrong with society,

with the way it's all been set up.

We know this civilized cement

was poured in layers over time:

one layer covering another

all over the property as the builders came;

as they found the materials handy.

I'd say they'd have been better off

to jackhammer the works

and start afresh -


Walking as in a dream,

restless of thought,

I think of compassion:

what does it mean to be compassionate?

I saw these words

in my mind:

“Would you know compassion?

It creates the unease of sorrow;

opens old wounds;

creates total confusion.

It turns the world you know

completely upside-down.

It demands a change of mind

about most things,

especially those cherished.

On the flip side

it brings a lasting healing

that is felt within.

It gives meaning to the word "Peace"

and at the end of the road

cleansed of old addictions,

freed of old attachments,

no longer wallowing

in the suppressed ugliness of the world,

it will show you the path of joy;

yes, even more:

it will show you the Golden Path.”

Competitive Sports

Must there really be competitive sports?

Feel the scorn, the put downs

as fans yell:

"My grandmother plays better

and runs faster too!'

and let the 'loser'

feel like a slacker, feel stupid,

let him become an outcast,

the butt of jokes and sarcasm.

The one who wins is the hero of the day,

but he too may lose, and then what?

Same treatment as for the other!

Can it not be admitted competitive sports

contribute to separation and judgment?

Can we not say they

breed anger and violence towards

the opponent... the "enemy"?

What's this senseless need to win?

What is "won"?

accept all comers for what they are:

sit down together (after the race)

laugh about it all!

The one who teaches us most

about who we are

is always the so-called loser,

so there, give her the gold!


Don't tell me I can choose to be

with whomever I choose to be:

there is such a thing as social conformity.

The great man stands ready to utter "the" speech,

shoves his wedded platitude forward:

"This wonderful woman without whose support

I would not be standing here today!"

and her response: AI am so proud of him!"

establish social approval.

All's well with the world.

No one's supposed to know

of "Playboys" under the den's mattress;

or mom's dalliances with the hotel manager.

And those casually picked up

in bars or elevators at the convention

never did exist.

And we try not to speak of

previously failed relationships,

in other blissful matri-moneys!

For these social conformists

after all, can do no wrong.

Want front page news?

There's always some obvious scapegoat:

a bank robber, a child molester,

a rapist or a terrorist; an oil spill

to increase the price of fuel:

the show must go on.

Contributing To Society

The idea persists, folks:

if your chosen field remains

the realm of writer or poet...

you are not contributing,

but taking!

Now here are examples of noble professions:

politician, lawyer, businessman, banker...

and to some lesser extent,

doctor, dentist, engineer, designer;

architect or teacher.

Is it still believed that these people

contribute the most to society?

Well, obviously, that must be true:

income levels say it all!

And so, blue collar workers,

plumbers, bus drivers, technicians,

carpenters, handymen and janitors

to name a few

deserve little but the left-overs...

But woe unto you if you happen to fall

even below the level of the janitor

collecting some form of social assistance:

a handicap pension, unemployment benefits

or perhaps that lowest of all places:

receiving the shameful welfare cheque.

Get a job, bum! Say the sheeple

echoing their government's lies

that the nation is in debt

because of lazy welfare types!

What woeful ignorance

these mindless drones display.

Who are the ones who steal from society?

Look up, not down: look up there

to those ivory towers of power:

there are your thieves, folks,

but they do it in grand style

to the tune of billions of dollars!

Dark Child

Dark child

playing beside the road

pushing your baby sister

in a broken grocery cart

wheels dropping off the pavement

grinding in the gravel.

You push so hard

your young life straining:

only a child, yet responsible

for another life, already,

too soon... too late.

Dark child

struggling with things not made

to fit together,

living a tangled life

you don't understand:

or do I underestimate you

as I glimpse your fight

in a dying world

staring from your black eyes


in dust filled slanting rays?

Darkness will gently cover

your ephemeral lives

haunting the broken cart:

You will vanish

as must all the dark children

despised, unwanted, unloved,

in other peoples' garbage.

Where could you place your bruised feet?

Your soft meadows of ancient days,

now streets for tandem gravel trucks;

and the wisdom of your grandmothers,

has gone to ride the comets

between fading stars, so far away.

When the sun rises again

in the brown skies;

when the smog rolls in

as the trucks thunder by:

your toy will lay by the roadside,

crushed red, abandoned: you gone and I

will experience another death.


These are the times of sadism

the reign of the banker,

when greed for nature’s riches

eclipses all others in the land;

the earth, mercilessly stripped

is laid bare to the open sky.

These are the times of destruction

when greed takes too many forms;

ancient forests vanish forever

beneath saw and bulldozer;

fire and erosion take their toll:

death stalks the wilderness.

A spotted owl swoops forlornly

over barren uplands

where giant evergreens stood

last week and were still home.

Where to? Where to?

Life, bereft of empathy?

No Two The Same

No two snow flakes

no two rain drops

no two grains of sand

no two thoughts, even!

no two ever the same

in the Universal expanse

perhaps even beyond

no two anything the same!

The forces of creation

do not clone life

but are ever moved

to create the original.

Do not be surprised

do not be shocked

at surrounding disparity:

it is nature's way!

Creating Knowledge

Stillness reflects harsh

upon a sapphire face of a sub-alpine lake

encompassed by ridged hills

dusted with early snow.

Observer in a gallery of life, I am,

standing still within my painting

where nothing moves -

nothing calls and nothing cries.

Confronted with this silence

like many before me, I contemplate,

a god, wondering without knowledge

what happens when movement begins?

What form, movement

within this creation of my mind?

Will it be order within chaos?

Wisdom or stupidity?

There is but one way to know:

"Make it so" I say in my mind

and the movement, the dance

begins, ever new:

Wisely directed, it will continue

on and on, phasing through infinity.

Stupidly set-up, it will come to a certain end -

chaos overcoming order -

And of all this, what is the gain?


Knowledge to correct paths:

encouraging wisdom, eliminating stupidity.


Is “democracy”

a contradiction in terms?

A short description:

Government of the people,

by the people,

for the people.

But who are the people?

Individuals, or collectives?

Collectives aren’t people -

they are groups.

If “democracy”

is ever to be what is claimed

then it must be

government of the individual,

by the individual

for the individual.

But how can that work

since “government”

is essentially a collective process?


any self-empowered individual

would have no need of



democracy is a utopian idea

that will never work

for as long as government endures

the people will be ruled

by elites with an agenda -

never will it be the peoples’!

Is Everybody Right?

You say it doesn't matter,

your way is good,

my way is good too:

It's up to me, it's up to you,

we follow our own piper

dance our own steps,

to our own tune

in or out of time:

doesn't matter:

it all comes right

in the end...

Well, please forgive me,

if I seem a little

s k e p t i c a l

and wonder about your

p s y c h o l o g y


before you conclude your


consider this:

many people

once followed one named Jesus

seeing the world differently

his ideas...and theirs

could have made a pleasant


even to this modern world:


love your neighbour as yourself?


love your enemies?

give them good for evil?

many people

once followed one named Hitler

seeing the world


his ideas...and theirs

turned this darkened crazy world

into a burning hell:


a master race permitted to rule

unchecked over the world,

to use to abuse

to torture and to kill

at will?

Tell me again

It makes no difference?

Dying System

People struggling to survive

on the fringes of a cold, dying system;

hiding from the tycoons

and their henchmen called governments -

trying desperately to find a place

in the global slave market

(euphemistically called employment)

where the chain is not too heavy

and the price less than the wage

with something left over

to feed the children in the cold.

The planet's life-giving mantle

cracks, dries, freezes

and oozes of poisonous fumes.

The system has run its course

but who is aware of this fact?

Not those who still chase the elusive dollar,

- the rich buying a corporation -

- the poor, a lottery ticket -

nor those who strive to keep

the best place at the trough.

And as the trough deepens or shortens

fewer and fewer snouts fit into the opening.

Ignorant government lackeys,

with indecent laws and crippling taxes

lick up the fat of whatever remains

after bankers and CEO's take the cream.

Miserly rich rail against starving poor,

these left with but one option:

to die for the god of free enterprise.

Will this madness not end?

An academic question already answered:

Not if but when.

Humans Not Of Earth

Drillers of liquid black gold,

miners of shiny diamonds or black coal;

builders of glass penthouses above the clouds,

collectors of crucified butterflies:

Who are you who cannot feel?

You pollute your water and your air;

blow up big holes in the gentle soil;

you kill this and that at will

with a legal permit for show and tell:

who are you whose touch is death?

You destroy a living world

as if you had a home to return to,

not plundered; not abused, not diseased

somewhere in the vast universe.

Who are you to be so smug?

When this Earth lies in rack and ruin;

when you lie gasping for air and water;

will your alien parents sweep down

in shiny mother ships to rescue you?

Who are you to be so blind?

Aliens on this planet is who you are;

children of pirates, thieves and murderers:

you have not changed; you have not learned -

this world no longer abides your presence:

Pray the ships are not long coming!

And pray your ancient worlds

were not destroyed by others just like you

when they passed by...

One Falls Out

A child of autumn

in falling gold

and waning sunshine;

a bucket of golden apples

clenched in tiny fist;

a large black cat

draped on a tired arm:

one falls out.


Behind gloomy thoughts

hidden by darkened shades

no light penetrates

into my brooding silence.

Depression greets me,

morning after grey morning,

each day as dark as the next.

From the hallways of my mind

I hear cries and moans

as if the whole earth

was in mourning for a loss

nothing can ever bring back.

What is going on? I cry

and a sheet of wind-whipped rain

slashes at the window pane;

in the yard of this dingy place

a bare tree twists in agony

as wind and rain

tear through its upraised limbs.

The telephone rings:

a friend has met with

sudden misfortune and calls

and in one moment

doom, despair, depression


in the awakening of compassion.

Outlook On Life

In the soft light of morning

an alpine meadow awakens

as it arches away from me

into the remaining shadows

cast by distant rocky peaks.

In the silence of the dawn

flowers cautiously open

to welcome the sun's light.

Bright diamonds of dew

sparkle on leaves and stems

spreading colour upon colour:

what awesome beauty!

I think to myself

standing here alone, silent watcher

casting a restful glance

upon the first day of light.

I cannot help but wonder

why so many choose the city.

The suffocating enclosed spaces

of its giant marketplaces;

its endless rush of traffic;

its fumes and gaudy artificial lights

and its painted artificial smiles

rouged by its inferno.

We have a choice, do we not?

If I stand here alone today,

why not another also?

The beauty that surrounds me,

the land offers free every day.

The feeling it gives me

could be that of another as well:

feeling of peace, of tranquillity,

of respect for life

and everything in it:

the city emasculates those feelings

but how many know this now?

Of Tragedies And Horrors

(And other things making up the good life)

Today (I heard the news) I really must wonder:

are humans utterly devoid of compassion?

Incapable of living in a world without war

and other collective madness?

Without the oppression and killing of innocents -

Of people, wildlife, the environment at every turn?

Without violent dictatorships

disguising themselves as democracies

or worse, business corporations whose only goal

is to make money at any cost - the drive of raw greed?

Humans seem incapable of living in such a world.

For without fascist governments pumping them full of fear;

without the news media reporting and exploiting

every misdeed, every crime, every tragedy and horror

- as just another part of normal life -

people would become unhappy, lose interest in their world

and the good life wouldn't seem so good

if there was no spice of violence, no tragedies to gawk at

no one worse off than another.

My conclusion has to be that tragedies -

particularly if they happen somewhere else

provide great entertainment;

are wonderful sources of gossip

without which, for most, life is boringly unbearable.

Now, were I a psychologist

and I had to give a report on such a group,

I would call it psychotic.

Questions About The “Why” Question

I was sitting on a park bench

muttering to myself:

why do I always want

to question everything?

How they work;

why they work! or not.

Maybe, I thought,

I should not question at all,

just accept things as they are:

wouldn't that make life easier?

Just then an old man

sat beside me and said:

“Hope you don't mind

but I heard you talking to yourself

and I may have an answer

to your existential questions.

“The unexamined life

is not worth living --

un-questioned, life falls

in religious limbo

or perhaps I should say:

becomes a pointless series

of belief systems.”

“Think about that for a while.”

(I'm still thinking about it!)

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