I asked the sky:
“Why am I here?”
He swallowed my words, waiting for more.
I didn’t know what to add.
I asked the earth:
“Why am I here?”
She shrugged her mountain shoulders.
I asked the fire:
“Why am I here?”
He was crackling so much he didn’t hear anything.
I leaned over the well to ask the water.
“Why am I here?”
“Come, I’ll tell you,” she said.
“Oh, no,” I said, “I’m just asking.”