UNANSWERED QUESTIONS   

High over rock cliffs (the time Mesozoical),
Soared a small creature of bent not quite stoical.
Visions so clear of the future were prevalent;
Letting him know of his Karma malevolent.

Birds would soon roost on his ledge by the mill-ion,
Crowding out spaces once solely reptillian.
Questions ran rampant in mind philosophical;
What of my issue when weather's not trophical?

Whether my blood (justly blue) would be bether red?
What's wrong with my scales? What's the rush to be feather-ed?
How can the Maker of wonders Cretaceous
Sacrifice winged toes for Dodos?  Audacious!

Cursed he his roots in his final humility,
"Damn Low Jurassic, accept my futility..."
Outrage ere long bowed to Fate inescapable.
Circumstance clearly unmatched without Papal Bull.

Spending his last days in deep melancholia,
Pondered he questions of quaint metabolia.
Shaped into rhymes of such subtle parameter,
Written in pterodactyllic tetrameter.

	Frederick William von Behren IV