Just thinking

Always curiousity is rarely sated...

Riddle me this, riddle me that
Why fear what's beneath the hat
A rabbit may be all that springs forth
But my luck mostly heads south, rarely north

The future is always a question
The answer always unclear
The present only offers suggestions
The past never really gone, just rarely here

Sometimes i worry, sometimes i cry
And always i ask why
To know the answer? maybe, maybe not
It's the questions i grow, the answers mostly rot

Riddle me this, riddle me that
Why fear what's beneath the hat
A rabbit may be all that's 'neath
To me the answer looks better in it's sheath