Can you explain why knowledge even exists?
When people said “thing X is true”
I asked myself just how they knew?
And is the X-law that they cite
The same one that I thought not right?
When some soul says “I tried it out
And thus know what I talk about”
I wonder if they really did,
Or if, qua simple-minded kid,
They tried some other thing instead
That seems the same inside their head.
I’ve never dropped this brick before;
Perhaps this one won’t hit the floor.
Or even if last time it fell
Perhaps it also flies as well,
Or if we drop it oft enough
’Twill bore and then try other stuff.
Why should the future match the past?
Why should each day come from some cast
That isn’t really truly real,
Just patterns that our minds can feel?
Why are there “laws”? Any at all?
Why does each summer end in fall
Or matter never come or go
Or frozen horse-shoes never glow?
Why can a dictionary be
Or things of yore make sense to me?
Tomorrow, might the rules all change
And boring things all become strange?
Might “yellow” simply cease to be
Or hair replace the waves at sea?
Why must one death come with each kill?
Why do I “know” it always will?