You trow bides no God, dogged by thoughts inane,
And often you ask why we see Him not;
Would that you grasped your questions are insane,
For they make sense to those wishing to rot!
Could you will to enquire where we are caught,
And why the ball of fire has not touched us?
Give it some time, give what’s been said a thought
Before you put your questions, making fuss.
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You shall not be reminded of the cuss
That was awarded when you lived a life
Quite different from the one you’re leading, plus
Souls that know to transmigrate with no strife.
The question hence is not where’s God, my son,
But how to find Him in the sky, Moon, Sun.
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