So what is this unknowable
Of which you speak? What is it then?
Is it injustice and its cause?
Or is how the ‘now’ turns ‘then’?
Is it the feeling of repose
That comes to some while others die?
Or is it why there seems to be
No answers to our questions why?
Is it the search that matters, knowing
Perfect knowledge is past grasp?
Are we just gerbils on a wheel,
Who pant and puff and wheeze and gasp
Until, at last, we breathe no more?
Is this what we must lastly face?
What is this great unknowable
That we know as the human race?