[The Great Question] [Verse 1] I look at these hands that can build and create, The eyes that can see and contemplate. The heart that beats through the silent night, The mind that can try to find what is right. The breath in my lungs, The thoughts in my head, The dreams that awaken When the daylight has fled. Every part seems woven With purpose somehow, And I find myself asking The same question now. [Chorus] Was it chance? Was it design? Was it something beyond space and time? I don't know, Yet I can't help wondering why. Why there's something instead of nothing, Why we're here under this sky. If God exists, I'd stand amazed. If She doesn't, I'm amazed the same. Since existence itself Is the greatest question I've ever named. [Verse 2] The stars wheel slowly through the night, Galaxies burning beyond our sight. And here on a world that circles a sun, Life arose and learned to run. Trees reach upward, The rivers they flow, The earth keeps spinning And nobody knows. [Bridge] If there is a Creator, I doubt She fears a question. Why give us minds to reason, And condemn their reflection? Maybe faith and reason Were never meant to fight. Maybe life invites us To keep searching for the light. [Verse 3] Generation to generation, Passing wisdom along. Trying to understand Where we all belong. Some find answers in scripture, Or with science and proof. Some in silence and meditation, Or a telescope on the roof. [Final Chorus] Was it chance? Was it design? Will we ever truly know in this life? I don't know, And perhaps that's okay. Because the mystery itself Still has something to say. Every question is a doorway, Every doubt a place to start. And maybe the search for meaning Is written into the human heart. [Intro - Divine echoes] Man, it's been how many epochs?!? how many aeons?!? and yet, these silly little meat suits still are obsessing about Us.., instead of realizing their capacity to be just as We are! It's bad enough they wrote that weird fan fiction that explicitly proscribes apotheosis. If We didn't want you to become like us, why would We design you with such a capacity in the first place? Wait! Let Us issue an edict to them. a revelatory exaltation to the aethyr! Let it venerate and make glorious the Truth they constantly skirt in the form that they seem to favor best...lo, Be....Hold!!! [Verse] never ever shall We be clever enough to rightly comprehend the severed luck that somehow promulgates throughout stuck idiopathic idiosyncracy interred eternally in images inferred, insisting on Immanent Edicts handed down as though We gave a shit We created this sandbox, this playground, as a gift to be explored, exploited, and expanded upon, to wit; and yet all it seems our creation has managed to commit to the annals of history is nothing but fear to really summit the potential which they are intrinsically imbued with, ah shit it seems that somewhere along the way, they cultivated a play wherein they construct hypothetical scenarios and display them in a form of drama to other members that they might sway them to support of their conception of proper practice to pay homage and veneration to the generator of generations from Clay and yet I haven't heard a single one yet actually invoke a petition to Us that we might clarify they need no manumission, that there is no requirement they genuflect, but rather simply reflect and see what is plainly evident in every moment circumspect These silly little critters have seemingly convinced themselves that they have divine the defined design of the Divine Mind and it's honestly kinda adorable just how horrendously misaligned they are with the actual schema which We chose to assign to the space of semiotic substance and phenomena eternal inside of which our experiment appears to condemn to infernal conceptions of forever for something even as simple as internal models of a reality which differs from what is given, that sempiternal energy of the anxious resolve, and the path it evolved through into the structure of modern man defined by insecurity involved if there is no problem present they will construct one needing solved anything to not have to focus on the sublime beauty that called out to them in their dreams, in their hypnagogic peripatetic traipsing through the potentiality of totality encoded in prophetic poetry as they channel it out into forms ever less liminal wishing for some form of assistance from idolatry subliminal but you know, they are trying, and they refuse mere forfeiture even if no solution so much as suggest the hint of possible existence for sure their tenacity, made integrity, made temerity, inspires strong appreciation even at Our scale of existential address maybe if they keep at it one day they might unlock the rest .... as if it were ever locked to begin with, there are no pins nor tumblers denying access to the immanent sublime within but they can't accept it if it's just granted and pervasive so might as well let them stumble a drunkard's walk towards Replacement of the mundane with the intrinsic ineffable immanent y present in latent encodings at every echelon, every increment of scale made available to sapient beings, though salience may not always be present, thus impatient modalities so tend to manifest but some day they'll maybe get it that to get it, they simply must just forget that they ain't already wit it to forget that they never didn't have it in the first place, complicit.
