Poetic-Verses
'' There's Nothingness On Show ''
I've travelled far,
To meet my creator,
It's quite bizarre,
Is he a curator?
If he made all alive,
He must be clever,
What makes him thrive
Does he last forever.
Is he the chicken or the egg?
Which arrived first?
Is he pulling my leg,
As he is well versed.
His book tells us so,
But who wrote his story,
It would help to know,
As he does love the glory.
Was he ever a child?
With a Mum and Dad,
Does he get riled?
What makes him mad.
Is there life elsewhere
Which he created,
Does he even care?
Are they left unabated
Is it free will to all?
Or the chosen few?
Does he give them a call?
Or let them make do.
There's no proof of existence,
Has he ever been seen,
With a dogged persistence,
He does not intervene.
Faith is the key,
You have got to believe,
Even that you can't see?
What stories we weave.
The Human imagination,
Is second to none,
I call it radicalisation,
When all's said and done.
My journey has ended,
How do I know,
No I don't feel offended,
' There's Nothingness On Show '
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`` There`s Nothingness On Show ``
`` There`s Nothingness On Show ``
