Little Human Brains

Why is the world so complex
For my little human brain,
Yet my soul exposed to it all?
Why is it:
Yes, always,
Unless …
Why is it:
I think so.
Why does that not have credibility?
Why can’t it be:
I know so.
Or is that even doltish?
Is it wise to say we don’t have an answer?
Is that it:
That we don’t know.
Does wisdom exist?
Is it wise to deem something sagacious?
For surely to do so,
We must be superior in some way,
Because recognition is wise,
I think.
Will it have been worth it in the end?
Why can’t I know now?
Why do I have to wait?
Is that fair?
Did we make a big mistake believing in fairness and order?
To be human is to live a delusion.
A wonderful, horrible, misleading delusion.
To be human is to lose all touch with reality.
To be human is to deny,
That the world is too complex,
For our little human brains.