Who Are We...(a poem of highest inspiration)
Who are we to doubt, this world's creation, distrust...our persistence,
The very significance of God's own spirited and powerful existence,
We, who are but as small ants in an enormous galaxy, as if by chance,
To be placed here on this earth, as beings, by mere circumstance?
Should we, as human kind, accept as an atheistic denunciation,
Perhaps in a state of such ambivalence, or of our blatant indecision?
Likened to be as an accident, or a miscarriage, maybe just a fluke,
Do we accept our own births, our own precious mothers, to rebuke?
We, who were given minds to doubt or accept, this in our final analysis,
Dare we chastise our creator, for the sake of all conceit, in our lapses?
The human inclination, even in the vastness of space, as a correlation,
A self-serving point of view, to consider matters, of a human persuasion,
Life is...despite humanity's acceptance of how was so, or by just whom,
The proof of life, experienced, by the warmth of a sun, in a flowers bloom.
A God and generous creator, responsible in his own ways, he only knows,
Ours to accept with open arms and minds...not to simply dismiss, or suppose.
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