To ask myself of why I learn, answers the
idea of why books were bound.
To ask myself why rain fall, answers how the
sky become blue.
To ask why we breathe, answers why the wind
keeps blowing.
Ask me though why I love you, I give you
answers none at all.
For to love has no reason, has no thought.
One has to feel it, real and pure.
So why ask me how I feel for you, instead of
just feeling it true.
I love you.
