How to speak to you?
Rid myself of thought? Spit hyperboles?
As if you had my lips
As if you had my ears
I could speak to you.
Know-it-all have a face?
Is it even mine?
Asking more questions than you can answer.
Babbling pile of ancient boulders and pebbles
I could build a tower
of the ways you are debated.
So I converted. To fact.
Nothing could go faster than light.
The tower fell of seismic activity.
I am cells (you may be atoms,
an explainable force, somewhere).
It made sense.
The more I learned, the more I could deduce.
Or reduce.
More I learned; scientific hypocrisy:
Being taught I didn’t need to see
to know it was there.
What faith! Like one god exchanged for another.
Mankind’s origins:
rolling a planet of dice down the Milky Way
and praying they all land on five.
And that’s suppose to be me?
So I came back for purpose.
To think that written on 3000 year old stones
was the wisdom that I don’t need to be reduced
to a collection of proton and neutrons,
and you, my God, can be anything,
if I want.
It doesn’t change guidance.
It doesn’t change relief.
Anything can emerge. You can emerge.
You just did.
