deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Transcendant
Desperately seeking a purpose or goal,
Wondering the meaning…
Is there such thing as a soul?
Is consciousness an illusion or does it exist
In a plane of reality beyond the physics?
Why are we born and why do we die?
What is the meaning?
Is there such thing as an ‘I’?
A cloud of atoms just floating in space,
Each of us just a fog; the whole of our race?
Every morning these notions rush in,
Questions form in the ether,
And start the discussion.
Will it matter, the options selected and chosen?
Or is choice the illusion, and the future just frozen?
Desperately seeking an answer, it seems.
Examining thoughts,
Choices, actions, and dreams.
Every happening, Socratically tested,
And every rejoinder is fully ingested.
But sadly, there never seems to be enough.
Hard data is wanting,
And what’s real’s hard to trust.
So, the pursuit continues to discover the provable—
To know what is true, what is good, what is beautiful.
Wondering the meaning…
Is there such thing as a soul?
Is consciousness an illusion or does it exist
In a plane of reality beyond the physics?
Why are we born and why do we die?
What is the meaning?
Is there such thing as an ‘I’?
A cloud of atoms just floating in space,
Each of us just a fog; the whole of our race?
Every morning these notions rush in,
Questions form in the ether,
And start the discussion.
Will it matter, the options selected and chosen?
Or is choice the illusion, and the future just frozen?
Desperately seeking an answer, it seems.
Examining thoughts,
Choices, actions, and dreams.
Every happening, Socratically tested,
And every rejoinder is fully ingested.
But sadly, there never seems to be enough.
Hard data is wanting,
And what’s real’s hard to trust.
So, the pursuit continues to discover the provable—
To know what is true, what is good, what is beautiful.
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