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A Wonderful Story

From where do I come?
Does anyone know?
Those quick to answer,
Should try thinking slow.

Humans have asked,
For 1000s of years.
And 1000s years later,
We’re not any nearer.

No answer resolves,
The mystery of life,
The mystery of being,
The mystery of time.

Why are we stuck,
In just three dimensions?
Why wasn’t it two,
And why just five senses?

We know that there’s more,
The universe offers.
Fields, and energy,
Are not solid but softer.

At the end of our lives,
I’m eager to know,
Do I just dissolve,
As if melting snow?

Sure I agree,
Our bodies will go.
Our minds may not last,
But where will I go?

Before I was born,
Say nothing existed.
So I sprang out of nothing?
Seems a bit twisted…

But if that’s true,
I think it’s nice.
If I did it once,
Then I’ll do I twice.

But if you ask me,
We’re branches you see.
All drawn from one large,
Infinite tree.

At the end of our time,
Perhaps we’ll return,
To an infinite being,
From which we emerged.

But this answer still,
Doesn’t satisfy me.
It just pushes back,
What I can see.

Apply the same question,
To the Infinite One.
This time we ask,
From where did It come?

Perhaps human minds,
Just aren’t built to grasp,
Infinite beings,
But much smaller tasks.

Regardless of how,
You settle this query.
I suggest living life,
Write a wonderful story.