I did it again. I sat outside on the deck, staring up at the sky. The stars and planets, again, transfixed me and held me in a state bordering between awe and confusion and deep appreciation for mysteries beyond my capacity to understand. I lured my wife outside to join me for a bit; she acknowledged the wondrous nature of the sky and the questions a night sky elicits from the bowels of one’s soul. After a time, though, she was ready to return to television and sofas and the comforts we allow ourselves to embrace when we dare not ask questions that have no answers. I continued my odd quest, looking skyward for answers to questions for which answers are nothing but lies and riddles. We are not brave enough, as a species, to ask questions for which true answers would boil our beliefs in soup so hot that the skin atop the lies we tell ourselves would turn into wisps of broken promises.