“Why are we here?”, he asks;
“What is the purpose of life?”, he does ponder.
“Is this a dream or is this really real?”
“Why black emptiness all around us if all we can do is wander?”
“Are we alone in this infinite abyss?”
“Are we pawns in a game of celestial chess?”
“Are we distant dreams of our true selves?”
“Why for the love of God do we find reason in this mess?”
“Does life begin with birth?”
“Or does death end with life?”
“Is there a beginning or an end to this journey?”
“Why exist at all in this world when imperfections are rife?”
He looked up at the Angelic figure
That aura of conscious all around it.
Oh! How he longed a swim in the ocean of cognizance
when he lived out his life in that black, meaningless pit.
The Angel had no flesh or bones
Yet she allured his very soul
She seemed to give a beaming smile
His conscious was about to take a heavy toll
She took him by the hand and said
“My child, I am your Mother.
I’ve birthed everything that lives and moves
and dies one after the other.
“I’ve been christened as Energy,
My blood flows through all of creation.
I’m harmoniously wedded to your Father;
Our syzygy reverberates with universal permeation.
“Our synergy pervaded matter
and birthed cosmos and all entities sublime.
It was just a matter of me and him;
My son, your Father is Time.”
He took in this abstract truth,
It was neither obvious nor obscure.
His guided epiphany had just begun.
Would he find famed Nirvana? He was still unsure.
