Are humans so desperate for salvation from this deprived and, saddened existence that they need to designate certain times of their life to be happy?
Do they really require signed and falsely authenticated pieces of paper to assure them that today is supposed to be a good day?
Would they rather look up towards the heavens where bliss is confirmed by only words, where as the ground reliant in its ability?
Must they believe they have something to look forward to because they want not to look back on fragments of tragedy they leave behind?
Have they no confidence in their own being, for they prance the Earth confounded by the changes they emit?
Celebration is devoid of Logic.
Also, Stephen, I'm working on your wallpaper: