In the Search, an Answer is Found
The mysteries of life, the paradox, puzzles,
and enigmas, conundrums, all much alike,
The human quest, that is of all our best,
are often just a question of each psych.
The march of the rhyme, often serves to prove,
that of all, is just a matter of time,
Found in the end, and a new search to begin,
in its seeking, is a love, so sublime.
Without a quest and in the searching,
Such plainness and all common complaints,
creates the stigma and a drabness,
not relieved by the holiest of the saints.
On wings of angels and by the hymnals,
In songs, the word is so sent to us all,
The receiving of each, by its reading, we teach,
holds us up, as some others may fall.
How may we conceive of a heaven above us,
and the grand creation of all that we see,
If we do not use our own mental capacities,
held as strength, within our minds, there to be.
The great universal perception, so envisioned,
and in hearts, that we all each revere,
The excellent plan and of its great perfection,
was ordained and as a gift, so sincere.
We seek, we search, we look in depths,
as our tasks, its a gain, and a need to know,
While in the pursuit, as discoveries are made,
this process helps us, as our aid, and to grow.
The human condition, is a fine statement,
one of the evolutionary procession, at its best,
And in its needed request, is but a passing of tests,
and a proof, that our God has all blessed.
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